All Gone
by Bodmin
Summary: We're in Season 3 after the first two dinners with mixed success. Then I deviate from the TV series. Louisa and Martin have a date for a third dinner when something goes horribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures.

I thank Littleguinea and robspace54 for inspiring me with their stories.

Chapter 1

Louisa sat at her table trying hard to concentrate on the marking of some history tests. But for once, it could have been of no lesser interest to her if anyone knew the reason why Columbus had ended up where he did. After all, that was more than 500 years ago. More recent events were heavily on her mind right now.

It was beyond her why fate was determined to interfere with her plans to finally win Martin over. Did she do something to infuriate the goddesses of fate, wasn't Martin punished enough or was it just a cruel joke of some unbeknown power?

More than five weeks ago, on the spur of the moment, she had finally had the guts to invite Martin to dinner when they ran into each other at the grocers. He had been so eager to accept and Louisa had spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen to make the perfect meal for two, but no – the fates didn't want to allow it! The stupid new cooker had a short circuit and the bloody fish couldn't be cooked! All of her work had ended up in the bin.

Martin, for once, had been really nice. Although she had been unable to provide any food at all, he had complimented her, telling her that it had looked as if it would have been rather nice if it had been fully cooked. For Martin, that was really a great achievement. However, this strange power that seemed to cast a shadow on their relationship had struck again when even the stopgap, Bert's restaurant, had proven to be a failure with blood all over Martin's plate. Another cruel joke of life.

Louisa hadn't been discouraged so easily, so the next invitation followed. Of course, this unknown manipulator of her love life couldn't allow that to go right. Oh no! This time fate recruited the neighbours from hell to interfere with their little private dinner for two. This time the cooker did its job and Martin had been so eager to help. When she refused, he just watched her in awe and a compliment _almost_ slipped off his tongue. OK, he covered it up at the last moment, but it had been obvious enough that he wanted to tell her that she was beautiful. Louisa had decided that almost a compliment is better than none and accepted it thankfully.

Being on the balcony with Martin had been nice and she already had hopes of being able to let the relationship bloom a bit, when those horrible Oakwoods, the unholy trio, had darkened her door. It was difficult to decide which one was the worst of the three, Frankenstein, the bride of Frankenstein or Frankenstein's little monster. Martin was no help, just hiding away and after some awkward minutes excusing himself. As mad as she was about it, she had finally recognised that it was her fault too, as she hadn't made it clear that she wanted the Oakwoods to go. Maybe Martin wasn't sure if he should _ease _them out of the cottage. Louisa herself certainly had done nothing to get rid of them. Another ruined evening.

However, fate certainly had surpassed itself the third time. Again, she had invited Martin over and had spent hours on preparing their meal. Just half an hour before he was due to turn up he had rung her on her mobile. A rather disappointed Martin had excused himself. He'd been called out to an emergency. Apparently there had been an accident on the cliff path. He had no clue how serious it was, and he just needed further directions on the mobile, but he felt obliged to attend to it. Some of the cliffs were quite dangerous and time may be paramount. Louisa understood. She was very proud of him being such a good doctor and she actually admired his dedication to the welfare of Portwenn, therefore she would never be one of those stupid wives complaining because her partner went off to save a life.

She could hear that Martin didn't take it lightly and was only a bit consoled after they had set another date. From the other side of the harbour she could see his Lexus speed away. Unbeknown to him she waved him a sad goodbye.

She thought nothing of it, just spent the evening sad but proud watching the telly. She was concerned for the first time when she tried to call in the surgery at noon the next day, finding a huge sign that the surgery was closed. She tried to phone Martin on his mobile, but uncharacteristically it was switched off. Even then, she hadn't been worried. Maybe he was in the hospital attending the patient he had to see the previous night. On her way down the hill, she ran into Bert Large, puffing and panting as he had made his way up the stairs from his restaurant to the street.

"Any news from the doc, luv?"

"What do you mean?"

"Paul just wondered. She didn't know what to do and was afraid the Doc would be really cross when she just shut the surgery down. I told her there's no point in lingering around when the Doc's not there."

"So _she _put the sign on?"

"I told the poor gal that it would be alright. Made the sign myself. I keep an eye on the surgery just in case the Doc turns up."

"Are you saying he hadn't returned after the emergency last night at all?"

"Hard to say. Paul certainly didn't see him downstairs. Of course she wasn't too eager to go upstairs and probably catch him in his boxers." Bert chuckled. "Called upstairs, though, but the bird seems to have fled the nest."

"Thank you, Bert. Can you call me when Mart…eeeh…Doctor Ellingham turns up?"

"Sure, luv. Everything to keep the customer happy, that's my motto."

And like a stranded walrus he headed down the stairs.

Louisa questioned everyone she met, asking if they had seen the Doc or if anyone had heard anything about an accident on the cliffs. Strangely enough for Portwenn, no one knew anything. Louisa went home to do some paper work, some silly administrative stuff that was of no practical use whatsoever. Just to keep the bureaucracy happy! From her place at the window she kept an eye on the surgery. Every reflection of a passing car made her jump in her seat, trying to spot a certain silver Lexus, but with no luck. When she went to bed without any sign or news from Martin, she was already more than just a bit concerned.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

At school, she interrogated the staff and pupils alike if they had heard anything about an accident on the cliffs or if they had spotted Dr. Ellingham. Many knew at least one person in the lifeguards, and if anything had happened at one of the cliffs nearby they would certainly know. Obviously there had been no reports of any incidents whatsoever for the whole of last week. It was extraordinarily quiet. Louisa was worried sick by now. After finishing school, she went over to the surgery just to find the exact sign at the exact same spot. Just another call on Martin's mobile had the same effect as the dozens before. She didn't have Joan's telephone number, but if anyone knew anything about Martin, she would. Louisa got her car and drove down to Havenhurst Farm.

When she arrived, Joan was busy in the chicken coop. Hearing a car approaching she looked up. Recognising Louisa she came out to greet her.

"Hello Louisa, what brings you this way? No complains about my nephew, I hope. You have to sort that out with him, I'm afraid."

"No complains, but if I had, I would love to sort it out with him directly, if I just knew where he was."

"At this time I would try the surgery, dear."

"Very funny. Just guess where I came from."

"You know him, he's probably called out."

"He _was_ called out – the evening on the day before yesterday. Have you seen him since?"

"Matter of fact, I haven't. I had badgers digging around my coop and I had to secure the whole thing properly. I don't want anything to happen to my birds."

"So you haven't seen him or talked to him?" Louisa asked anxiously.

"Nope, but I can call him, if you like."

"You can try, but I called him dozens of time, but his mobile is switched off."

"It never is."

"Now it is. And no one has seen him since the day before yesterday. I haven't spoken to him since he excused himself for not being able to come to dinner because he'd just been called out. We wanted to eat together tomorrow evening instead. At six-thirty, because of his carbohydrate curfew. And now he's nowhere to be seen…" Louisa kept on babbling and started to sob. Joan had been her last hope and now she was sure something dreadful must have happened.

"Now, now, dear. Just come inside and have some tea and then we can think about what we can do." Joan led the young woman inside her kitchen and put the kettle on.

"And now tell me quietly what has happened."

When Louisa had finished her story and her cup of tea, Joan decided that first, she would call the hospital in Truro. _If_ the emergency had been so grave that it needed attendance in the hospital, Martin might have switched off the phone and had forgotten the time over his duties. That was the most plausible explanation. Of course the hospital first refused to give any information, but Joan was not easily discouraged. She made it clear that she was not in the least interested in any information about any casualties. She just wanted to know if Dr. Ellingham was in the hospital somewhere, and if so, if she could speak to him.

The receptionist promised to make some inquiries and call her back. Louisa was still in tears.

"Look, Louisa. It won't help anything when we just despair. We simply have to find out what this is all about. And maybe he's already back at the surgery?"

"No, he isn't." Louisa sobbed. "Bert has an eye on it and promised to call me immediately, but he hasn't. Oh Joan, what shall I do?"

"Dear, dear, you really feel strongly for him, don't you?"

"I…I don't know…yet. Finally we managed to make arrangements to dine together, and then he suddenly disappears. That's not fair!"

"I'm sure he has good reasons. Otherwise he would never abandon his surgery."

"I know he wouldn't! That's why I'm so scared! Do you think anything has happened to him?"

Before Joan could answer this tricky question, her phone rang. She went to answer it.

"Yes…Yes…I see…You're sure?….Since last Thursday?...And you asked…sure you did…Please call me if anything comes up. Thanks. Bye."

"What is it, Joan?" Louisa had come after her loved ones aunt.

"Sorry, dear. No news. They haven't seen him since last Thursday, and they are pretty sure that they wouldn't have missed him."

"I see. Where else can he be?"

"To be honest, I have no clue. Let's go and see Penhale."

"You're sure he can help? I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but not really one to turn to to solve a problem?"

"Yes, he's not the brightest of all people, but if anyone receives any news at all, it'll be the police. In any case, I think we should report Martin as missing."

"Oh no!"

"Just to be on the safe side, dear.

First let's get everything moving, then we can start worrying. Your car or mine?"

Louisa didn't feel able to drive anymore. She had come to Joan for comfort, but by now she was more worried than ever. Joan looked tense and worried, but as a woman of action she was in perfect control and just thought of every possibility to find out about her nephew. She drove down to the police station in record time and swiftly parked her pickup next to Penhale's police car.

"Hello Joe, can we have a word?"

"Mrs. Norton, Miss Glasson. I really would love to, but you know how it is…I'm up to my ears in work. All these new regulations for security against international terrorism. _Very_ important measures. We have to make sure…"

"Stop it, Joe. I'm sure that there are more attractive targets for international terrorism than the sleepy Cornish village of Portwenn."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, Mrs. Norton! The point is that they strike wherever it is expected least. So, as you said, no one would expect an attack here, and therefore we are in the greatest danger. You can't be too careful!"

"Yes, Joe, I'm sure you just have our safety in mind, but…"

"Now you're talking! I can assure you..:"

"Stop it, Joe! We didn't come for general safety issues. Marty is missing."

"What do you exactly mean by '_missing_'?"

"Joe, I'm not in the mood for silly discussions. I'd say it's pretty obvious what '_missing_' means. It means, no one knows where he is."

"I'm sure he does know."

"How can you be sure, maybe something happened to him?" Joan stated, just when Louisa started to cry again.

"Come, come Mrs. Norton. Our Doc knows how to take care of himself. He and I are two peas in a pod, the dynamic duo – we solve the problems, not have them."

Joan looked sceptically over at the PC. She knew that Martin was fairly capable of keeping himself out of trouble. He had a healthy amount of fear that would keep him from getting himself into something, but Penhale was too dumb to recognise danger even when it bit him.

"Yeah, but maybe right now Martin might have a problem and I _insist_ that I report him as missing." Louisa's sobbing grew louder and she quietly exclaimed "Oh Martin!". Joan didn't take any notice and simply tried to get him reported as being missing.

"If you insist, I'll get the form."

"Please do so, Penhale!"

Grumbling about the unnecessary fuss being made over a man perfectly capable of looking after himself and the hysteria in women in general, Penhale rummaged through his desk, finally returning triumphantly with the right form.

"Found it! So - name of the missing person?"

"Penhale, you idiot! You know perfectly well who my nephew is, and now skip all the official rubbish and come to the point."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Norton, but the procedure has to be followed, I'm afraid."

"Dr. Martin Ellingham."

"Appearance."

"Oh, bloody…you know what he looks like!" Penhale looked over reproachfully. "Okay, you win. Before we have to spend the night here. 6'3'', short grey hair, blue eyes, well…what else?"

"Any distinctive features?"

"Don't think so, do you, Louisa?"

"His ears" she sobbed "they are sticking out a bit."

"Well, you might be right." Added Joan. "Clean shaven, always wears a suit. Anything else you need?"

"I think we don't need to add the last bits. Maybe he has changed appearance to go into hiding?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Penhale! My nephew doesn't need to go into hiding! We're just worried that something might have happened to him."

"When did you last see him?"

"Louisa saw and spoke to him last the day before yesterday."

Penhale rolled his eyes and started to tear up the form.

"Joe, what are you doing?" Louisa exclaimed in pure horror.

"He is not even missing for 48 hours, he's a perfectly able, healthy, sane man with no signs of a criminal act. So I can't report him missing just yet."

"But Joe, you know how meticulous he is. He would never cease to show up for surgery without informing Pauline if nothing had happened to him." Louisa pleaded. Joe stopped in his motions.

"Well, because it's the Doc, I will keep the report for a further 48 hours, and if we haven't heard from him then, I will send the report to be distributed in the whole area."

"But can't you do anything now?"

"Sorry, Miss Glasson, can't do. He has the right to go wherever he pleases without the police being after him."

"We're just worried. The last time I spoke to him he was called out to the cliffs to some accident."

"Now, now, he's a bit of a liar there. If there had been an accident on the cliffs, I'd certainly know about it. Everything's quiet as can be."

"Oh no!" Louisa cried out. "I know he doesn't lie. That means he had been called out under false pretences. Who can do a thing like that? And why? And why didn't he come back? And where is he now? Something must have happened! Joan, what can we do?"

_To be continued…_

The author loves feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Joan took the younger woman in her arms to comfort her. She knew Louisa had taken a fancy to her obnoxious, clumsy nephew, but she had never realised how seriously she felt about him. Why did she have to realise what she felt for him exactly when he disappeared? Joan was worried sick herself. She knew that it must be something grave for Marty to have neglected his duties as GP. She just hoped they would find him in time to help him and that time would still be of importance, but she said nothing not to worry Louisa even more.

Penhale couldn't be persuaded to take action immediately, as he was doing his duty by the book, and Martin wasn't missing long enough to take any action.

As soon as the official time for missing persons cases were up, a description of Martin was emailed to all police headquarters in the country. In the meantime, Louisa and Joan had hung up posters with a print of Martin's photo everywhere in the region, with the heading "Has anybody seen this man? In case of any information please call…."

The phone remained quiet so far. No one seemed to have seen Martin at all nor knew anything about the mysterious emergency call. With every day passing, Louisa grew more desperate. Joan tried to comfort her as well as she could, but she was also very afraid that something had happened to her nephew. The surgery remained closed, patients got themselves transferred to Wadebridge, and no one knew anything. Portwenn, usually a melting pot of gossip and information – true or false – couldn't come up with any explanation.

One Saturday morning Louisa sat in her kitchen area, hardly able to stomach anything, when she saw a silvery car swiftly turn into the parking lot next to the surgery. At last! She couldn't believe the joy she felt. She rushed out immediately, almost forgot her key, and then rushed down the hill towards the harbour, just to run up the hill on the other side. It was incredible the stamina she had, as she hardly slowed down running towards the surgery. She came to halt in front of the car and all the energy left her body immediately.

There was a French number plate. Obviously some tourist who had ignored the private parking sign and was probably either on the cliff path or somewhere in the village. Very disappointed she went back home.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After a week had passed, Al Large offered to organise a search along the cliff paths, hoping to find any traces at all. Not many people volunteered for the task, as not many people felt like searching out and about just because the Doc had finally gone Bodmin after all. However, Al did his best. He had never forgotten how the Doc had searched the bloody woods for Mark and himself and was still thankful that he had finally rescued them. Now was the time for pay back.

On the tenth day of the search, he finally came up with a result. However, he wasn't happy to tell Louisa and Joan about his finding. Far outside the village, he had spotted the Doc's Lexus at the National Trust car park near Lundy Bay. However, the car was empty. No sign of the Doc. Given the state of it, and the amount of dirt the sea gulls left on it, it must have been there for quite a while.

Roger Fenn had offered his help but didn't really think he was suited to run along those cliff paths. So he had organised the search, keeping in contact with all parties and marking on the map which areas had already been searched and giving new instructions when one area was reported as being finished. When Al informed him that they had found the car, Roger was devastated. He immediately informed all search parties and Penhale. Then he realised that he was the only party of the search team still in the village, so he had to face the fact that he had to tell Louisa. He hoped Joan would be there, too. Otherwise another difficult visit was ahead of him.

He went into the lounge and told Maureen that he had to go out to inform Louisa about the car. Maureen went to the door with him, giving him an assuring hug.

Louisa hardly dared to leave the house anymore. She didn't want to risk being away when there would be any news. So she always returned home after school immediately and then waited for some news. It was nerve-wrecking, and if she could have had the possibility, she would have seen a doctor by now the way she was feeling, but then, if she had her doctor to turn to, she wouldn't feel that way. The staff of the school was very friendly and understanding, taking over as many tasks as possible, as Louisa often had her mind on other things.

She started to wonder when she would reach the point when she didn't expect any news. After all, Martin had been missing for three weeks now, but nevertheless she was convinced that he would turn up at any moment.

Louisa was lost in her thoughts. Officially she had to read the new regulation for securing equal opportunities, but she simply could not concentrate. Then there was a knock on the door. She jumped up. When she opened the door, Roger was standing in front of her.

"Any news about Martin?"

"Maybe I better come in?"

"Oh Roger! Is it that bad?"

Roger pushed past her inside. Louisa couldn't stand it any longer.

"What is it, Roger?"

"I think you'd better sit down and we talk it over quietly. Is Joan also here?"

"No, she had to attend to her chickens. Is he…I mean he isn't, or …?"

"We don't know yet, Louisa. Sorry. We just found his car."

"What do you mean? Where? And where is he? Has it broken down, or what?"

"It's still early stages. The car was found empty at Lundy Bay. There is no sign of him yet. By the look of it, it seems that the car was parked as normal, but Penhale will get some forensics down there to check. For the time being, we just called everyone out of the area, so that we don't destroy any traces. However, after all these weeks it might be difficult to find something anyhow. We had some pretty heavy rains the other week. That alone would wash away a lot of evidence."

"But what did he want there? Where could he go from there? It's not really a short distance to anyone or anywhere?"

"Louisa, we have to wait to see what the police discover and maybe that will give us a clue. As long as we don't know more, we will stop the search and then start with fresh evidence. He must be somewhere."

Slowly what Roger had said sunk in. Louisa started to cry. It was too much for her. Roger put his arms around her, trying to comfort her.

"Look, Louisa. At least now we have something to work with. There is still hope and we will do everything we can. Just try and stay positive, will you?"

"But it's so unlike him. He doesn't just walk off, especially not without caring for his surgery. Something must have happened, and if he is lying injured somewhere… But after three weeks he would be…Oh Roger!"

"Yes, I know. You two tried so hard to get together, and finally it looked as if it might work. But sometimes life plays strange tricks. Look at me. Just two years ago I thought everything was over – my job, my pension, finally the cancer. And now Maureen is at home with our twins and life couldn't be better. Maybe it's just your dark moment before the light breaks through. Maybe in two years you'll be watching yours and Martin's children play. Who knows? All is not lost. We'll try everything to find him. Promise."

Louisa couldn't stop crying, but nodded. She _wanted_ to believe what Roger said. However, all the facts were against it.

"I'm sorry Louisa, but I have to go to inform Joan. She has a right to know. Can I leave you or shall I call Maureen to keep you company?"

"No, that's alright. I think I'll drive down to the farm myself to tell Joan. You've done enough. I thank you. I thank you all. When the search is over, we should go to the pub or Bert's for a little gathering. I doubt we will have much to celebrate, though…"

"Stop it, Louisa. Stop worrying when there is no need yet."

"Maybe you're right. I'll go and visit Joan."

Both got up and went out. Roger went home to wife and kids, to get some comfort himself.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Louisa actually managed to drive down to the farm without being overwhelmed by her grief. She couldn't be alone at the moment. She needed someone to talk to about Martin. Someone who wouldn't make sneering remarks. Someone who loved him in her own way, too.

She caught Joan in her vegetable patch. A farmer's work is never done, no matter what happens. Seeing Louisa's car, Joan dropped her tools and headed towards her. When Louisa got out of the car, Joan could tell by the puffy red eyes that all was not well.

Louisa informed Joan about the recent events. Joan had listened quietly while they were sitting at the kitchen table, then she kept brooding in silence over her mug. Finally she assured Louisa: "Roger's right. No use in getting upset. His car has turned up, so might he. We just have to wait."

"For how long do we have to wait? It's three weeks now! When he has been injured, he's certainly, he must be… Oh Joan!"

"No, not at all. You know that there are some remote places around. If he really was hurt and found refuge there, then maybe he hasn't had a chance to contact us. We are not going to give up just yet."

Louisa couldn't help but notice that the whole family surely didn't suffer from being over-sentimental. Right now, she found it quite comforting and assuring. It was the same feeling Martin could give her in his better moments. Something she had longed to cultivate in him when they might get closer. If they just ever had a chance!

Meanwhile, even Penhale realised it was time for action and reported the case to the next higher division in Truro. They sent over the CSI to examine the cliff path and the car. There was no useful evidence to be gathered. The car had been undamaged and untouched. There were no fingerprints except for the owner's.

If there had been any traces at the cliffs, then days of raining and masses of tourist trampling along the cliff path had taken good care of that.

Unfortunately, the results from the police report didn't really give a clue at all where they could concentrate their search. Just one thing was for sure now – the car was in perfect condition and had not broken down. There would have been no need for the Doc to leave it. There must have been other reasons why Martin hadn't had a chance to return to Portwenn. As much as Louisa thought about it, there was no explanation she could think of that was not utterly horrible. Even when Roger and Joan kept assuring her not to lose hope, there was nothing that could ease her gloomy thoughts.

All these years their relationship was in the limbo. All these years they had acted as if they had all the time in the world. It simply wasn't fair that just when they actually started to develop a regular visiting pattern, their time together should be used up.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After the search had been interrupted for the investigation, Al had difficulties in gathering people together again. Martin Ellingham was missing now for a whole month and no one in his right state of mind could possibly expect a positive result. Furthermore, life had to go on.

So Al and Roger just distributed handouts in the further regions and took care that there would be articles in the local papers regularly. Otherwise, they had to admit defeat. Exactly one month after the emergency call, Al went up the hill to head for White Rose Cottage.

"Al, any news?" This had become Louisa's usual first greeting. No '_How are you?_' anymore.

"Louisa, we've gotta talk, right?"

"Come in, Al."

"Look, Louisa. I'm really sorry an' all. I can't keep up the search any longer."

"Al, please! You can't give up. You're my only hope."

"I can't recruit anyone anymore. They have to attend to their own business. Life goes on and all that."

"But what about Martin? He needs our help."

"I'm sorry to say it, but we looked everywhere we can think of. There is no place near that we haven't searched. Let's face it – we can't find him."

"Al, but what shall I do?" Al turned sheepishly around.

"I dunno. Move on. That's all you can do, s'pose."

Louisa slumped onto the next chair, covering her face. It was incredible how many tears one can produce in one single month.

"But he needs us." She looked up to Al. "Just think of all the people he helped. He traipsed all over the woods and didn't give up finding you!"

"Don't make me feel bad. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that's why I did this? I'm at my wits end." He buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry!"

He turned around and left her crying at the table. He really felt sorry, but there was a point where you simply had to face the fact that there was nothing that you could do anymore. He had to direct his energies to tasks where he actually could be of some help.

Paul had to look for a new job. It didn't look like the surgery would be open any time soon – if ever. Also dad had managed to make a mess of the bookkeeping and he had to try to sort that out. He was sorry for the Doc, but let's face it. Probably he didn't need help anymore.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Louisa sat there for about an hour. Her mood a mixture of anger, grief and despair. There _must _be something that she could do. But what?

Finally she picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Joan? Louisa's here."

"Any news?" Joan didn't show it the way Louisa did, but she was shattered just the same. She had lost a husband and a lover. She had told her brother that she was a survivor. But actually, she didn't want to prove that she could survive the loss of someone she regarded almost as her son.

"Just guess what?" Louisa shouted angrily. "Al wants to call the search off!"

"That was to be expected, I suppose."

"You're backing him up? What about Martin?"

"Louisa, please be reasonable. They have invested a lot of time for a whole month. They actually managed to find the car. That's more than the police were able to do, but they've reached a point where they have to get back to their lives."

"What can the two of us do to help Martin?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid. We haven't been able to help him so far, and it's becoming more and more improbable with every passing day."

"Joan! I thought at least you would care?"

"Louisa! Pull yourself together! Of course I care, but we can't lose ourselves in delusions. Martin can't be anywhere in this region, otherwise they would have found him. They've done everything they could do. There is nothing more we _can_ do right now. We can just do Martin proud in doing what he would expect from us. Move on and try to be happy."

"You're talking as if he were…."

"…as if he were dead? I'm really sorry, Louisa. But let's face it – it's the most logical explanation. You know that yourself, don't you?"

"Noooo! Joan, it can't be! That's not fair!"

"Life seldom is, dear. Shall I come over?"

"No. Just go on with your life." Louisa hung up. It couldn't be. She wouldn't allow it! How often had she dreamt to be with him, to finally be able to seduce him? And now all that would be left was the memory of two kisses, ending with some nasty remarks or him falling asleep.

All he had wanted to do that evening one month ago was to help someone! That's not a reason to… to… She simply couldn't bring herself to think it through.

He never really had been _part of her life_, but life without him seemed so empty. Still she looked out for him everywhere, around every corner. Regularly she walked up the hill to his surgery, just to find the sign '_Surgery closed_' and the parking place empty. Sometimes she walked to the back door to peek into the dark kitchen, hoping against hope he would be standing there with his apron over his suit chopping some vegetables or skilfully preparing fish.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When Louisa returned to her cottage that evening, she saw Joan's pick-up waiting in front of her door. When Louisa approached, Joan got out and came over to Louisa, who tried to circumvent the encounter with Joan.

"Louisa, we have to talk."

"Sorry, Joan, right now I don't think I want to. Not with you. Sorry."

"I realised I had been harsh on the phone, but do you really think it's easy for me?"

Louisa made her way straight to the door, unlocked and said over her shoulder when she started to go in. "Sorry, not tonight."

Joan placed her hand on the door and pushed it open. "Yes, now. I can't stand by and watch you drive yourself crazy." Without invitation, she followed Louisa in.

"Where have you been?" Joan asked Louisa with a stern expression.

"I don't see that it is any of your business."

"Where?"

"Around the village."

"Or rather around one certain cottage?"

Louisa looked guiltily at the floor.

"Louisa – he's not there! And if we don't want to go crazy about it, we have to accept that. You have to stop chasing ghosts:"

"But we just can't stand around doing nothing!"

Louisa dumped her handbag into a corner and slumped down at the kitchen table. Joan sat down opposite, taking Louisa's hand in hers.

"Look at me. Louisa! Look at me!" Reluctantly Louisa raised her head to face Joan.

"There is nothing that we _can_ do. Al has been a really great help, but he can't do anymore."

"Hmmmph." Louisa turned her head away.

"The poor boy did everything in his power."

"And now he just walks away. He doesn't want to help anymore." Louisa sobbed.

"He has a girlfriend without a job and a father with debts – he has a life to go back to. You have to understand that."

As Louisa still looked sideways to avoid Joan's eyes, Joan said with more urgency. "Louisa, tell me that you do understand that."

After a while Louisa brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looked towards Joan und said meekly. "You're right. Sorry. But I just don't know what to do." Louisa jumped up from her chair and went over to the French windows. It had always been so soothing to look over the harbour, but now that was even more painful, because she looked directly over to his surgery. The surgery that was empty for a whole month now.

"Louisa. I'm really sorry to say this, but we can't do anything for Marty anymore. The only thing we can do is invite the whole search party to the pub, thank them and thereby officially call the search off –" Louisa turned around in shock "- and then we have to think of ourselves."

"But you can't go on as if nothing had happened? As if he never existed?"

"Of course I will think about him often, and no one says you shouldn't. But you simply have to stop focussing your whole life on this one thought of getting him back. It won't happen. I certainly hope that I'm wrong, but that's the way it looks right now."

Louisa slumped back on the chair, looking at the older woman in sheer horror.

"Louisa, please trust me in this. I have lost people who were dear to me before."

"When Phil died, I had the chance to say goodbye to him properly. He was ill for quite some time and in the end, I came to be thankful that he was not in pain anymore. That helped a lot. Of course I missed him and I still do, but it was a clear break and I had to regret nothing. And I was younger."

"Then last year when my old flame John came back. I really was willing to give up everything for him, to sail away with him. Fate didn't want to have that, either. Martin had forced him to be examined and had found a heart condition that would lead to his death within six to twelve months. John simply sailed away without telling me to prevent me from giving up everything just to nurse him to death. When I saw him sail away for the last time, Martin came down and I had a shoulder to cry on. I know how much Martin hated every physical contact, but he put his strong arms around me and let me cry into his chest. He was a big help."

Again tears started to run from Louisa's face.

"And now it's Marty. I have no one now to offer a shoulder to cry on. I have little future left and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye properly. In fact, I spent most of the time criticising him or giving unwanted advice. I hardly ever told him how much I relied on him. I hardly ever told him how much he meant to me. I wasted that chance and I regret that deeply and I will not be able to make up for it. Yes, Louisa, I _am_ devastated about everything I failed to do and I can't bear to think that I have lost him. I almost regarded him as my son. Phil and I couldn't have children, Marty's my only nephew, and he had no parents to speak of. So, he _was_ practically my son. And yes, Louisa, it hurts like hell."

"But what good will it do to sit at my kitchen table and bury my face into my hands, crying away all day and hanging about his surgery? _It won't bring him back._ All I can do now is to focus on making the farm earn money again. Especially as I have no one anymore who would back me up in case I go bust."

"Oh Joan, I'm so sorry!" Louisa said under tears. "I'm very selfish. It's just…I really hoped this time it would work. We actually had two dates in one week. Not very successful ones, I admit, but nevertheless. He also _almost_ paid me a compliment. He couldn't bring himself to say that I looked beautiful, but it was pretty obvious that that's what he wanted to say. Somehow fate always intervened. First my cooker wasn't working, then my new neighbours invaded me, and on the third attempt…" Louisa couldn't talk any further. She buried her head in her hands. Joan patted her shoulder.

"I see, love."

A muffled voice continued "I…I don't even have the memory of his strong arms around me. I always dreamt of that, but it wasn't to be…" More tears. "Just two bloody kisses are all I have to remember." she finally said, choking back tears. "If he just hadn't conked out when I poured the wine down his throat." She looked up and tried to focus on Joan with her puffy eyes. "You should have seen his face when I told him I had come to seduce him." Louisa couldn't help but chuckle through her tears. Joan took her hands and squeezed them. "I really would have, you know, but just kissing me made him pass out! Bloody…"

"He would have liked that."

"Oh Joan!" Louisa got up again, facing the windows, facing the surgery on the other side of the harbour. "I always dreamt about how it might be when we would finally be together. Now I'll never know…" Sobbing, convulsively she bent her body forward.

Joan went over to stroke her back. These two had just wasted too much time. Being young often made you think you had all the time in the world. But you didn't. Time is precious at every age.

Louisa turned around and slung herself into Joan's arms, who protectively put her arms around her. She could hear Louisa's muffled voice. "All I ever wanted was him to lead me down the aisle. Now I can't even bury him properly. It seems we just can't get anything right."

For a long time the two women stood in each others embrace, crying together over the loss they shared. The sun started to set and the dawn let lights appear all over the little harbour of Portwenn. Only the grey house just opposite remained unwelcomingly dark.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Joan drew away.

"Are you ready now to organise an evening at the pub? We have to acknowledge what they have done for us."

Louisa nodded, trying to hold back any more tears. "You're right, Joan, I'll call by the pub tomorrow after work."

"Right. Can I leave you alone?"

"I don't know. I feel quite shaky. If you could stay with me tonight?"

Joan looked at Louisa with sympathy. "I'm really sorry, but I've neglected my birds for as long as I can. I'll call in tomorrow when I do my deliveries. I hope you understand?"

"Sure, sorry. I'm being childish."

"No, you're not. And you can call me whenever you like."

"Thanks for coming over."

"It was good for me too, to talk about him, my feelings. I think that was what I needed."

Louisa escorted Joan to the door and then the two women hugged each other.

Joan drove off and left Louisa alone, looking over the harbour. Thankfully the darkness had swallowed the view of the surgery, the reminder of her emptiness. She sighed and went to bed, but sleep didn't come easy. Joan had truly shattered her hopes that Martin would just turn up again. Joan was right. Given all the facts, the most logical explanation was that something fatal had happened to him. Even though, he must be somewhere, or at least the remains of him. Thinking about this, Louisa slowly drifted off. She often had dreamt about Martin, mostly wishful dreams about them being together, more or less intimate. Unfortunately these dreams were replaced now by more grim pictures. His body hidden in some dark cave, seagulls picking at his flesh. This was replaced by his body drowned in the sea, serving as fish food. She was awakened by her own scream, sweaty all over. Why was mankind cursed with imagination? And why was hers running wild in a complete wrong direction?

She got up, went to the bathroom and washed her face with cold water. Her eyes were still red and puffy, as her quick look at the mirror revealed. "Oh Marin, where are you?" She asked her mirror image. Neither of them knew the answer.

She didn't dare to go to sleep anymore. She dreaded the pictures in her dreams. She went down to do some paperwork. When the sun started to rise, she went out on the patio to watch the sunrise over the sea. She purposely avoided looking over at the surgery.

She went to school early. Then she went over to the notice board and pinned a note on it "To the whole staff – please gather in the canteen during the first break."

Then she started her teaching. The break came and everyone was curious. Louisa had waited until she supposed that everyone was there. Before entering the canteen, she took a deep breath. Then she summoned all her strength and strode energetically to face everyone. She plastered a smile.

"Quiet! QUIET, please!...Thank you. I'm glad that everyone followed my invitation although it was on rather short notice, I'm afraid. I won't keep you long. I just wanted to thank everybody for backing me up in these last difficult weeks. You were all a great help to me and I assure you it didn't go by unnoticed that many of you took over tasks that I had to do normally, but honestly didn't feel up to. I'm grateful for your support and I'd like to assure you that I'll try to live up to yours and my expectations more in the future. I'm really proud that we proved to be a team where everybody can be sure that he is supported when it is needed. Thank you very much. For more _substantial_ thanks I'd like to point out that I will be organising an evening at the Crab & Lobster for the search team and you will also be welcome as you were as great a help to me as they were. I will inform you about the exact date when everything is organised. Now I won't keep you any longer."

Everyone applauded and started to whisper. Louisa rushed out before anyone could talk to her, trying to look confident but busy. She headed straight for the '_Ladies_', shut the door, leaned her back against it and started to sob. After a few minutes she composed herself. Step one on her way back to a normal life was made.

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After school she stopped at the Crab & Lobster, inquiring about a date and the conditions to entertain all those people who had helped her or looked for Martin. The landlord offered really good conditions, and everything was fixed for the next Friday.

Louisa went home to make a list of everyone involved in the search and everyone at school who had been supportive. She prepared the invitations, when she heard Joan's pickup. She went to answer the door and the two women hugged each other.

"How are you?" The elder one asked.

"Honestly? Miserable. Couldn't sleep at all last night. I thought about what you said yesterday and informed my staff today that I would take my responsibilities more seriously from now on."

"Good. Well done!"

"Furthermore, I checked with the Crab & Lobster. Next Friday they will have everything ready for a little get-together. If the weather is fine, we can do it outside. Fingers crossed. I'm just a bit stuck with the guest list. Maybe you can help me?"

"With pleasure. Well done. I'm proud of you. You made your way back to the living."

"But it still bloody hurts."

"Don't expect that to change soon. Some even say it will never wash away, you just learn to live with it."

"Something to look forward to."

"Doesn't have to be that way in your case. Maybe, when some time has gone by, you can move on, find someone."

"Oh Joan, I hadn't found anyone before I even knew Martin. The chances are not any better now that I know what I want."

"Time will tell. Now first is first – let me see the guest list."

Together they gathered a complete list of all the helpers and supporters and prepared all the invitations. Louisa would distribute them after work the next day. As all people involved lived in Portwenn, there was no need in having the expense of postage. Joan picked up the letters which she could easily distribute on her delivery round. This time, they concentrated on practical issues only.

It became a regular pattern now. Every afternoon Joan called in at Louisa's. The two women grew close over their grief, but still it was mostly Joan who tried to lift Louisa's spirits. Louisa didn't know where Joan got her strength from.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The week went by, and with every day Louisa dreaded Friday night more. She knew, however, that she owed the village to thank them for their support. Finally the day came.

It was fine weather and the area in front of the pub had been decorated with different coloured lights. Enough beer and soft drinks had been ordered, some finger food was prepared and soft music played in the background. From 6:30 pm on, people started to arrive. Joan and Louisa both greeted everyone and thanked them personally. At seven pm Louisa switched off the music and asked for their attention. She had prepared a little speech to thank everyone for their effort. She especially thanked Al Large for his commitment and kind help. "Unfortunately the search didn't have a happy end, but let me assure you that I know that this is not the fault of any of you. If it would have been possible to find Martin, I know you would have succeeded. If anyone could have done it, then it would have been you. I thank you all that you proved once again what village life is all about – to help each other in their hour of need."

"I really needed you over these last few weeks, and I was not disappointed. I thank you all so very much!"

Louisa looked at all of these faces, most of them she had known all of her life. Al looked sheepishly around, not confident about the praise he received. Roger, accompanied by Maureen, tried to look reassuringly towards Louisa. Joan nodded.

The music was switched back on. Many guests came over to Louisa to express their sympathy. Louisa knew that they really meant well, but this wasn't helping at all, it just rubbed salt into her wounds. After two hours, she took a glass of sparkling wine from the tray and slowly made her way to the exit, almost unnoticed. Only Joan followed her with her eyes, but guessed correctly that Louisa just needed time for herself. Joan could see that Louisa slowly paced up Roscarrock Hill.

Louisa took the steps up to the surgery – still dark and deserted. She gently polished the metal sign saying "Dr. Martin Ellingham, MD RS FRCS" with her sleeve. Then she nodded towards the party down at the harbour. It was already dawning and the different coloured lights shone brightly.

"That's for you, Martin. I know you never believed it, but people do care about you. They did everything to find you. Stubborn as you are, you didn't let them. Elusive to the end."

She cheered her glass towards the sign. "Here's to you. Wherever you are." She poured down the sparkling wine and left the glass on the doorstep. Then she slowly climbed down the hill. She remembered all the times she went the same way, with his eyes fixed upon her. "I hope you can catch a glimpse from where you are now." She whispered. She went past the pub, where the increased alcohol levels had heightened everyone's spirits. She was in no mood for laughter. She went up to her cottage. With the lights switched off, she went onto the balcony. The laughter and noise from the party – her party – could clearly be heard. There was a light breeze . It would have been a really nice evening. Would have, if only…

_To be continued…_

I thank Sendibo for the valuable information what is written on the plaque of the surgery._  
_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The morning after the party Louisa forced herself to have some breakfast. She hadn't had a proper appetite since Martin had gone missing. She just had to get herself used to regular eating patterns again. Martin wouldn't want her to neglect herself. After breakfast she sat down to correct history tests. She couldn't concentrate. She had to force herself. There was no use in neglecting her job. Her eyes wandered to the little grey cottage on the other side of the harbour. She wondered if her glass might still be standing on the doorstep. She hoped so. Maybe she should leave some flowers there every now and then. She had no place for her mourning. She had never gone down to Lundy Bay. After all, only the car was found there. She didn't mourn for the car. Maybe she should make the cottage her place of remembrance.

Still in thoughts, there was a knock on the door. She went to open it, expecting Joan paying her daily visit. Much to her surprise she found PC Penhale.

"Good morning, Louisa. That was quite a treat last night. I'm not much for gatherings, normally. But it was for the Doc, right? So as his best mate I had to be there." Louisa looked sceptically towards Joe. There were many things to be said about Joe, but him being a _mate_ of Martin's was certainly not one of them.

"Besides, you can't be too careful when so many people are around. Some of the junior lifeguards were there, too, and – you won't believe it – some actually tried to get some alcohol. They are not even 16 yet, but under the Family Law Reform Act, section 1 they are only allowed to purchase alcohol when over 18. I certainly put an end to that."

"And now you're here to charge me with accessory, or what?"

"Why, did you actually encourage them?"

"Of course I bloody didn't. I guess I have other problems than that right now." She tried to slam the door, but Penhale stopped it before it could fall into the lock. Pushing the door open, he followed Louisa inside. He sheepishly turned a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Actually, I need your opinion."

Louisa felt defeated and thought the easiest way to make Penhale leave was to let him say what he thought he had to say, tell him he's an idiot and then maybe he would leave free and willingly.

"What about, Joe?"

"I don't think I should be talking about it with you. Police matters, you understand."

"Then leave it."

"But I thought, maybe…I don't know?" He placed the sheet of paper in front of her.

"Does it remind you on someone?"

Louisa jumped to her feet, clinging to the sheet. "Where is he? Has he been found? He's not…I mean he looks pretty much alive on this photo. Is he?"

"So you think it's him?"

"Penhale, you idiot! You lovable, incompetent idiot! Of course it's Martin. It must be."

Louisa held in her hand a rather sharp photo. The appearance was a bit shaggy – beard and he had missed a couple of trims during the last weeks obviously – but apart from that it was unmistakably Martin.

She held the sheet under Penhales nose. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

"This photo came this morning. This man was found at Plymouth Sound without any means of identification. As I understood it, he's at the hospital there."

Louisa had already grabbed her keys, pulling Penhale out with her.

"Louisa, where are you going? We have to establish the facts first."

"You establish your facts and I'm off to Plymouth!"

"But it says in case of any information we shall call…"

"I'll call around at the hospital myself."

She had finally managed to get Penhale out of the cottage. She kissed him slightly on the cheek. "Thank you very much, you're a darling!" Then she headed off.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Louisa's mood was miraculously heightened. She had turned her radio on and was singing happily along, the louder the better. She was already heading down the A38 towards Plymouth, when she suddenly remembered that she hadn't informed Joan. Maybe Penhale would do that, maybe not. Honestly, Joan should be the first one to meet him. But if it was false alarm? She was pretty sure that the man on the photo was Martin, but just in case he wasn't, maybe it was for the best that she checked first. Having soothed her conscience successfully, she sped further towards Plymouth.

The hospital was quickly found. She swerved into an empty parking lot and then called in at reception.

"Good morning. Can I help you?" was the professionally friendly voice at the information point.

"Yes, I'm looking for Martin Ellingham. Can you tell me which room he is in?"

The girl searched her computer, but didn't get any information.

"Can you spell that please?"

"E-Double L-I-N…Wait a minute!"

"Something's wrong?"

"I'm such an idiot! Sorry. My fault. Let's start again. I have heard you have a person here with unknown identity. I've seen the photo this morning and I'm pretty sure that I know him. Can I see him, please?"

"Oh, you mean the Plymouth Sound man?"

"If you say so."

"I'm afraid. I can't give you the room number. You have to contact his treating doctor. You have to talk to him, first."

"Right? Where do I find him?"

"His office is on the third floor, second door to the right when you come out of the lift. I'll call him that you're here, Mrs..?"

"Glasson, Louisa Glasson."

"In what kind of relationship are you to this man, assumed he is the one you think he is?"

"I'm…a friend."

"A friend?"

"His best friend."

"Right? Normally we would prefer if some relative could come to identify him."

"He has just one elderly aunt and I wanted to spare her the ordeal of the journey if it is just a false alarm. I wanted to establish his identity first." Louisa knew that this was not really close to the truth, but hoped that it would do the trick.

"I see. I'll call the doctor." The receptionist dialled the internal number.

"Dr. Fellows, I've got a woman here who thinks she knows the Plymouth Sound man…yes, that's right…no, she would like to see him…in ten minutes….right…I'll send her up."

Meanwhile Louisa had looked for the lifts. When she had spotted them, she walked into that direction. The receptionist waved at her. Louisa didn't intend to stop and yelled over "Yes, I know – Dr. Fellows, in ten minutes, third floor, second on the right."

While the lift took her to the third floor her heart was pounding wildly. She got out and found the door immediately, waiting impatiently outside. While she was still there, the door to a room further down the floor was opened and a group of nurses was washed outside. Before the door could be shut, yelling could be heard.

"You imbeciles! Are you really inserting a catheter like this? This inefficiency is…" The door closed and the rest could not be heard. Louisa's heart missed a beat when she recognised the voice. Without thinking, she ran towards the door where the frightened nurses had come out and stormed in.

Inside she found herself face to face with a man in a hospital bed. Scruffy beard, hair a bit unkempt, his right arm was in a sling. He looked thinner than normal. Nevertheless, it was quite obviously _her_ Martin!

She ran over to him and threw herself onto him, kissing him, running her hand over his beard. The man looked puzzled. "Finally I've found you. How are you, Martin?"

"Matter of fact, given the circumstances, quite fine. But excuse me….do I know you?"

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Louisa drew back and looked incredulously towards Martin. She could hear a door open and the patient looked over her shoulder and started to rant.

"I must say! Is this pure negligence or utmost stupidity? How can you let a visitor see a patient with retrograde amnesia without informing either of them about the situation? This causes high irritation for the visitor and not the least the patient, where it can hamper progress considerably."

Suddenly Martin slumped back and he looked utterly confused. To himself he muttered "Why do I keep saying things like that?"

"Because you're a doctor." Louisa answered.

"Am I? I mean – I am? That explains a lot."

"Explains what?"

"Well, the first thing I can remember is lying at a beach, thinking '_Arm bloody hurts, dislocated shoulder, no doubt.'_"

Louisa laughed, while her eyes became a bit watery.

Now Dr. Fellows had grabbed Louisa's arm, pushing her up. "I must say! As I understand it, you were told to visit me first." Towards Martin he added. "I'm very sorry for this. It wasn't planned this way at all. Of course she was supposed to speak to me first, but we are not responsible for the hasty actions of visitors." Again towards Louisa. "Could you come to my office, NOW!"

"But I'd like to talk to Martin. There is so much…"

"IF you can convince me that he's the person you say he is, then yes – you can talk to him later. But as the patient pointed out correctly, you must know some things first. We have our reasons for not wanting visitors storming into the rooms without talking to me first."

Louisa was led towards the office. Inside the little room, Dr. Fellows pointed towards the visitor's chair.

"How is he? What has happened to him?" Louisa asked excitedly.

"Mrs…" he searched his notes.

"Glasson, Miss Louisa Glasson. But I want to know how he is."

"Miss Glasson, don't you think your impatience has caused enough damage already. Can we agree that I will ask you some questions first and then we can see how to proceed?"

"But I have to see him before I leave, please promise that I can go to him."

"We'll see. First is first. So who do you think this man is?"

"He's Dr. Martin Ellingham, our GP in Portwenn."

"Have you any proof to confirm your opinion."

"Just ask him? I can't understand why he's regarded as unknown when he can speak for himself. Or don't you believe him either?"

"Miss Glasson. It seems it eluded you that he is not able to tell us much. We'll come to that later. First I'd like to establish that you have a right to know anything about his condition. So where were we? Right. Any proof of his identity?"

"Actually no. I presumed he had all of his papers on him when he disappeared."

"Right. So how do you think I can establish the fact?"

Louisa thought for a moment. Was there any official paper she could think of? Any witness which he would accept that she could produce quickly enough so that she could see Martin? Suddenly she had an idea.

"I don't know, but before he started as a GP in our village a few years ago, he'd been a rather successful vascular surgeon. Maybe there are some publications of him? Or maybe there are traces of him on the internet. Maybe it's worth a try."

"Right, I see. So Dr. Martin Ellingham you say." Dr. Fellows turned towards the computer and typed the name into the search engine of the internet and of the internal reference manager. Fortunately he came up with a couple of hits in either search engine, and could even find a couple of photos. He inspected them thoroughly.

"So we have quite an illustrious guest here. Well, I guess you're right. He looks like our patient. Besides, some of his comments so far have hinted towards him belonging to the medical profession."

"Now how about you? What's your relation to the patient?"

"We were supposed to have a date the night he disappeared, and two dinners together the week before. We are very good friends…on the verge of something more."

"I see. So you're not a relative?"

"No."

"And you're not his wife?"

"He's not married."

"So, officially, I am not allowed to tell you anything about him. You realise that?"

Louisa was desperate. "No! Please! As soon as I heard about this unknown patient and saw the photo, I recognised him immediately, I rushed down the 50 miles. I _have _to see him! I was devastated because I thought I had lost him. Please!" She felt tears rising in her eyes.

"Lets see. I can ask him if he is willing to see you. Let's start from there."

Louisa got up and turned towards the door.

"Please sit down, Miss Glasson. We haven't finished yet." When Louisa reluctantly took a seat again, the interrogation continued.

"Do you know what happened?"

"As I said, we agreed to have dinner together at my place five weeks ago. It was the Wednesday. He was supposed to come over so that we could eat at 6:30. He's very particular about not eating after 7 pm" she added with a smile. "Around 6 pm he called me to say that he had to call it off as he had received an emergency call. Someone had an accident on the cliffs.

We arranged to meet three nights later. I saw him drive off. His car was later found at Lundy Bay. Abandoned. No one had seen or heard of him afterwards. We organised a search, but couldn't find anything except for the car." Louisa was sobbing a bit while telling the events. "Ironically, yesterday we had a gathering at the pub to thank all the helpers and call the search off officially. We had almost given up hope. But when Penhale – our local PC – showed me the photo this morning…" The tears were streaming from Louisa's face by now. "I'm sorry. It's just that it was such a bloody difficult time, thinking that he…"

"Yes, I understand. So you have no clue how he came from…" he checked his notes "Lundy Bay to Plymouth."

"I've got no clue. However, it seemed as if he had been lured to that beach deliberately, as there had been no accident at all!" Louisa was sobbing heavily now. "What have they done to him?"

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Dr. Fellows came over now to pat her back. "Miss Glasson. We are not sure. He was found on Wednesday morning at the bottom of the cliffs of the Plymouth sound. Some early visitors to the beach had spotted him and called the police and ambulance immediately. It turned out that he had injured his shoulder and had several bruises and grazes. He was undernourished, had obviously swallowed too great an amount of salt water, had been exposed to the sun more than was good for his skin and was considerably concussed. And Miss Glasson…" he forced her to look at her "…he has no memory whatsoever."

"So you mean he can't remember what happened to him?" she sniffed.

"I'm afraid it's worse. He has no personal memories at all. When we asked about his name, he became confused. He couldn't remember. He doesn't know where he lives, what he did for a living, nothing about his parents and his childhood. Nothing. The first thing he remembers is waking up at the beach."

"But he sounded just like his usual self when I heard him complaining about the nurses."

"His factual memory is untouched. You can ask him about capitals, he knows the premier minister, and astonishingly enough every single Minister. He proved to have a huge knowledge of biological sciences, that's why we already assumed that he was in the medical profession. In fact, he tended to diagnose himself." Louisa chuckled under her tears.

"Yes, that's very much like him."

"We hoped it would be a short-lived symptom of the concussion, that's why we didn't publish the picture immediately but first attended his medical needs, hoping his memory would come back. After three days, we decided to take some action."

"When do you expect him to regain his memory?" Louisa said.

"Impossible to say. In the majority of the cases, it only lasts a few days, but honestly he hasn't shown any signs of recovery yet. We simply have to wait."

"Can't you do anything?" Louisa sniffed.

"I'm afraid science is a bit at a loss there. There is nothing we can do."

"So how long can it take, in the worst case?"

"I'm really sorry. I can't possibly say. Some come out of it in a few weeks, with others it takes months. There have even been cases who never snapped out of it at all."

"You mean, it's possible that he will never remember?"

"It's only a very tiny risk, really. But yes, it's possible." In a more cheerful tone he continued. "But maybe now we have a better chance with you here to help us."

"How?" Louisa was delighted that there would be finally something that she could do for him.

"Sometimes it helps when a patient is confronted with some pleasant memories. Their favourite music, favourite poems, books, pictures, pastimes. Anything his heart was set on. So can you give us information on any of these?"

Louisa's heart grew heavy. Did Martin have any favourite music? Did he listen to music at all? Sometimes he had the radio on in the car, mostly BBC3 or Classic FM. She was pretty sure that he didn't read any novels at all. And for pictures and sculptures, she could hardly imagine him in a museum admiring the works of art.

"I…I am sorry. I don't think he has any of these, really."

"But everyone has. Just try to think about it."

"Really, I don't think so. He was always very focused on his work. He owns some Asian handcrafts – chests, boxes, a golden Buddha, that sort of thing. Otherwise he was always very businesslike."

"Well, maybe you can think about it quietly at home, talk it over with someone and give us more information the next time. What about childhood stories? Sometimes they trigger memories."

"He never talked much about the past. He lives very much in the present. Honestly, from what I gathered, he had a rather ghastly childhood. Not many pleasant memories to be expected there."

"I see. It seems to be becoming quite difficult."

"That's always the same with him. It's so bloody difficult to get to him." Louisa sniffed. "But maybe his aunt can help. She lives in Portwenn, too. He spent his summer holidays at her farm when he was a boy, during the break from boarding school. Tomorrow I can bring her with me!"

"Her stories will be of great value. However, I'm sorry, but I think it would be best that we postpone her visit a bit. Too many new faces can be confusing. He'd better get used to you first, before we allow any other visitors."

"Oh, I see. Joan, that is his aunt, will be very disappointed. She regards him almost as her son."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you think he can shave? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like to be seen like that. He was always meticulously groomed."

"We can see what we can do about that, but maybe we should give it few more days, until the concussion has subsided and his skin has recuperated a bit from the overexposure to the sun."

"I see. Can I see him now?"

"You'll have to fill in some forms, first."

Louisa was shocked to learn how little she knew about Martin. Next of kin, profession and address were easy, but she got stuck with the date of birth. She managed to give as much information as possible.

"Right, please get the remaining information for your next visit. And when you visit again, please bring some of his personal things – toiletries, pyjamas, leisure wear."

Louisa laughed a bit hearing the last.

"What is it, Miss Glasson? Can't you do that?"

"Oh, I'm happy to bring as much as I can. But I bet he has no _leisure wear_ whatsoever. I think he only possesses suits."

"You don't need to bring those. They are not really suited for hospital beds. Maybe you can find something."

"Hasn't he anything right now?"

"We provided the usual hospital gown."

"How embarrassing. Shall I get something for him and come back later?"

"No, if you really want to call in tomorrow again, that should be sufficient."

"But what about his clothes? Can I have them and get them cleaned?"

"I'm sorry. He had only some remains of clothes left on, just enough to make him decent, I'm afraid. The rest were severely damaged. We gave everything to the police."

"Poor Martin. He's always so proper. He never even dares to loosen his tie."

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry."

"But, please Dr. Fellows – can I see him now? I really want to be with him."

"Remember that he cannot possibly know you or anything that has happened. Try not to upset him. His mental as well as his physical state is still quite fragile. Be careful what you say and don't be upset when he says something offending. It's quite normal in his state as the whole world is a bit confusing for him right now."

"Don't worry. It was usual for him no matter what state he was in. I should be used to that. But please!"

"Right, Miss Glasson. I will ask him if he wants to see you. And, please, control yourself and wait outside until I ask you in."

"Sorry, Doctor. Of course."

"Good. Then please follow me."

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

They went back to the room. As Martin was in a fragile mental state, he had been given a single room. Very unusual, but it seemed to be the only possibility. Louisa was glad that he had at least some privacy.

Dr. Fellows disappeared into the room. Martin tried to sit up in bed the moment he came in.

"Doctor, please tell me – does she know who I am? Am I really a doctor? You know, I thought about it, and I think I might be."

"Yes, it seems that she identified you correctly and she is very eager to speak to you. Do you feel up to it?"

Martin thought for a moment. The idea of meeting someone who knew more about him than he himself did scare him. However, he would never find out who he was if he couldn't ask anyone. Besides, she seemed to be quite nice and looked stunning. On the other hand, he himself was hardly presentable.

"Am I decent enough for a lady visitor?" Martin asked his doctor cautiously.

"Of course you are. Besides, you're in a hospital so she hardly expects formal attire."

"Well, I think I'd like to speak to her. Will we be alone?"

"You don't have to be. A nurse can stay."

"No, I don't mean that. I would rather speak to her alone, if possible."

"If you think so. You're sure you can manage?"

"I think so. I can always press the emergency button if I no longer feel up to it."

"I'll send her in, shall I?"

"Please do." Martin positioned himself in his bed so that he sat reasonably upright but had the blanket over him.

Dr. Fellows came out and Louisa stepped towards him immediately, anxious to know what decision Martin had come to.

"He wants to speak to you. I don't think it's wise, but he prefers to speak to you alone. Please be careful of what you're saying and try not to upset him. Please bear in mind that he has no idea who he is or who you are. In a way, you're a complete stranger to him. Don't forget that."

"Thanks, Dr. Fellows. I will be careful. When I come tomorrow, shall I call in at your office first or am I allowed to go to Martin directly?"

"Please come to me first. You have left me your number in case I have to contact you?"

"Yes, it's on one of these forms."

"Right then. See you tomorrow."

Louisa shook hands with the doctor. Then she took a deep breath and entered the room.

Martin was anxiously looking over to her. She quietly stepped to his bed and sat down at a nearby chair.

Martin fumbled nervously at the blanket. He looked at his visitor intently and tried to wrack his brain for any information, but he simply couldn't relate to anything.

The silence endured while both stared at each other. Finally Martin spoke." I'm sorry, Mrs…"

"Louisa. Louisa Glasson."

"…Mrs. Glasson that I upset you."

"I'm sorry, Martin, I shouldn't have stormed in like that. I was told to speak to the doctor first. Honestly, it's not their fault, but I was so excited when I recognised your voice."

"Mrs. Glasson…are we…related?"

"Martin, can you please call me Louisa? I know you can't remember me, but it feels so strange when you address me so officially. Would you mind?"

"Eeeehm… Louisa. Right." Louisa smiled.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You just sound so _normal_."

"Do I?"

"Yes. If I didn't know about…your condition…I would never guess."

"Really?" Martin wasn't sure if he found this information reassuring or disturbing. He just looked up to that pleasant face smiling at him and knew that this was something he could find comfort in.

"Right." He pulled himself together. "Are we related?"

"No, Martin. We're not."

"Right. I see. Are we…I mean…we aren't..?" He helplessly gestured between them, looking a bit lost.

"No, Martin. We are also not a couple, if that's what you mean."

"Right, I see." He was disappointed, but that would have been too good to be true. "So how do we stand to each other?"

"That's a very good question, Martin. I've been trying to find out for years." Martin looked at her. "See, we had dinner together twice the week before you disappeared, and were supposed to meet up the evening you went missing. Maybe it's the safest to say that we are very good friends."

"I see. Do you know what happened?"

"Sorry, Martin. I hoped I'd find out when I found you. As I said, you're a doctor. You're our GP."

"Who is _our_?"

"My village. The one I was born and bred in, and where you came to be our doctor about three years ago. It's called Portwenn." Martin shook his head. This name simply didn't ring a bell. "It's on the north coast of Cornwall, about 50 miles from here. One of those idyllic Cornish harbour towns where everyone knows everybody."

"I see."

"You're a bloody good doctor and you're really devoted to the welfare of the community."

"I'm glad to hear. Just a pity that I…now…" His eyes filled with sadness.

She leant over to him. She had tried to keep her distance, as she didn't want to make the same mistake as before, but seeing him so distressed just made her wish to touch him. She ran her hand over his beard. It felt weird and somehow wrong, but his eyes assured her that she hadn't made a mistake, as her touch seemed to sooth him.

"You will be our GP again, soon. We can't wish for a better one. Dr. Fellows said you're factual memory is almost completely intact. So maybe there won't be a problem there. Just get well, first."

He gazed at her. He liked the thought that he had dated this wonderful woman. Her touch felt right, somehow.

"As I said, you were about to come over for dinner when you called me that you had to cancel as you were called out for an emergency. There was supposed to be an accident on the cliffs. I didn't think much of it, as you are often called out. As I said, you take your job very seriously."

"You weren't sore at me?"

"No, Martin. Actually, I always was very proud of you." His eyes glistened. "You always put your own interests last. I always accepted that."

"As I said, I didn't think any of it, but as you hadn't returned on the next day I started to worry. You would never have abandoned your surgery without any notice."

"So something must have happened while I attended the accident."

"Actually, there is no record of any accident whatsoever. Probably there was no accident. Maybe you were lured down."

"Do I have enemies that would do that?"

"Not that I know of. I hardly think so."

"So how did I came from Portwenn to Plymouth?"

"I don't know." Louisa said softly, and reaching over to take his hand. She stroked it gently and suddenly, when her fingertips had reached his wrist, she let out a cry. "What's that?"

He looked away, trying to hide how much he was upset, and tried to pull his hand away. "Nothing." Came a muffled voice.

She reached over to take his other hand and inspect it more closely. Now she grabbed both of his hands and stared at his wrists.

"They tied you up!" Louisa exclaimed horrified. Both wrists showed clear marks where rope had cut into the flesh. It didn't need an expert to reveal the story these wounds told. Martin still stared onto the wall opposite her. She wasn't sure, but it seemed that he started to sob quietly. She let his hands go and ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

"It's alright, Martin. Now you are safe. Whatever you've been through, it's over. You're alive, that's all that counts."

In a tearful voice Martin spat out a bitter laugh. Louisa tried to make him look into her direction. "What, Martin? Did I say anything wrong?"

No reply.

"Martin, look at me."

No reply.

"Tell me what's bothering you."

Another bitter laugh. Louisa had enough of looking at the back of his head, got up and went around his bed. Before he could turn his head into the opposite direction she had cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were red and tears glistened on his cheek.

"Martin, I thought I had lost you. I never knew how painful grief is. I mean physically painful. I felt sick. I thought all my energy had left me. I couldn't see any sense in anything I was doing. Because you weren't there. Because I was sure I would never see you again." She brushed his tears aside with her thumbs. "But you _are_ here now. You _are_ alive. You _are_ fairly unharmed, nothing that time won't heal. So, yes, that's all that counts for me. Can't you see it?"

"I could as well be dead." He said under tears. "What good am I to anyone? What can I do? I'm helpless as a child. I wouldn't even know my bloody name if you hadn't told me. And how can I be sure that's even true? I have to take your word for it. I can't even check if _anything_ you say about me is correct. I _have_ to take your word for it. You can tell me whatever you like, and I have to believe it." He was openly crying now.

"Shhh, Martin. It's alright." She bent over to let his head rest against her shoulder, stroking his hair to comfort him. "I can see that this whole situation must be disturbing for you. I can't even start to imagine how awful you must feel. If I understood Dr. Fellows correctly, there's a very high probability that your memory will be back pretty soon, maybe except for the period of your traumatic experience."

"It should have returned already. With every passing day the probability lowers."

"Did they tell you that?"

"No." He sighed. "But somehow I'm certain of that."

"Let's just presume – purely hypothetically – that you won't regain your memory. That wouldn't be a catastrophe, either. You're alive. That's all that counts."

He drew back and looked at her in horror. "You can't mean that?"

"You are back. We are together again. Together we can overcome all obstacles. Can't you see that? That's what is important, really. Together we can make it work, no matter what."

"I can't just depend on you?"

"Just get well, so that we can get you home, and then we'll see."

"I can't leave here?" Martin was terrified. Until now it hadn't occurred to him that he had to leave the hospital. It was the only home he could remember. Except for the safety of the clinic he could only remember lying on some beach in pain.

"I thought, someday… They can't keep you forever."

Martin was deeply upset. What this stranger had told him was simply too much for him. He couldn't stand it any longer. "Go! Just go! Leave me alone!"

"Martin?"

"You keep calling me that. How do I know that this is my name? How do I know you're not just playing a dirty trick on my? Just go!"

"Right. I see. I can understand how confusing it must be."

"Just go." Martin whimpered by now.

"Just one thing. Dr. Fellows asked me to bring some of your things down. Would you mind if Joan and I go into your house to collect the stuff?"

"Do I have any other option? Do what you please. Don't mind me. I can't help it anyway."

"If you do mind, I can buy you some new things, some basics you need."

He looked at her with a glimmer of hope. Swallowing back the subsiding tears, he thought about it. It felt good to have a choice. All he could remember was people making decisions for him. He couldn't object, as he had no clue what was right. He simply lacked experience. After a considerable time he asked back. "Who is Joan?"

"She's your aunt. She also lives in Portwenn. You spent your holidays at her farm when you were a kid."

"Wouldn't it be too much trouble for her? She must be quite aged."

Louisa laughed.

"What?" asked an irritated Martin.

"It's just that Joan is strong as an ox. She has enough energy for both of us. Actually, when you were…away….she was the one who helped me not to go mad. She can handle that quite well."

"I think I'd rather have my own things. Even if I can't be sure."

"Is there anything in particular that you want?"

"_Very funny_. Like what? Can you tell me? What am I likely to want? You must know – better than I do."

"I'm sorry, Martin. I didn't mean to…"

"I think you better go now."

"I'll be back tomorrow. Bring you your stuff. And Martin – try to relax. We will find a solution."

She leant over to kiss him on his cheek. Then she left the room.

Martin was looking after her. He tried to digest the information. He felt sorry and guilty for being so harsh to her. _If_ everything she did say was correct, then she certainly didn't deserve to be treated like this. It was just so damn humiliating to meet someone who knew far more about yourself than you did.

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

A bit later Dr. Fellows came into Martin's room.

"So, how did it go?"

"Are you sure she is right about me?" Martin asked back.

"It looks pretty much like it. We will give the information to the police and they will check it out. However, I'm pretty sure they will confirm it."

"So did she have any proof of identification?"

"Not directly, no."

"How can you be sure, then?"

"She told me that you were an accomplished vascular surgeon until a few years back and I was able to find some publications of yours with a photo included. It certainly looks as if you were really an important figure in the area of surgery. To be honest, I have read some of your articles myself with great interest. No beating about the bush, just solid facts and useful information. No fancy theories, but only facts of practical value. I found some of the articles quite helpful. I'm honoured to be privileged to help you now."

Martin went quiet for some time. "If I was such a successful surgeon – why am I a GP in some Cornish village? Did I cause a medical incident?"

"I don't know. It seems a bit odd, to be honest. I know a former assistant of mine who works at the hospital now where you used to work. I can ask him to find out, if you really want to know."

Martin thought about it. Would he really like to know if he had done something stupid? Strangely enough he considered that amnesia might be persistent in cases of guilt, to ease the pain of being responsible for something horrible. Too horrible for the brain to accept. Had he done something like that in his profession? Was that the reason his brain refused to remember? Did he really want to know? On the other hand, if he was confronted with the guilt of his past, maybe he would remember.

"I don't know if I really want to know. Can I tell you tomorrow?"

"Sure you can. Think about it."

"Just a thought, but maybe – can I see some of my publications? Just to find out if they still make sense to me."

"No problem. I'll ask my secretary to make copies and bring them to you."

Martin fingered his blanket and looked nervously around. Dr. Fellows noticed it and after a while he stated. "There is something else on your mind. Tell me."

Martin had been irritated by something Louisa had said and kept thinking about it. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, even though he didn't like it. Hesitantly he addressed the subject to his doctor.

"Eeeehm…this – Louisa – she was quite excited because…well, she thought…When do I have to leave here?"

"I see. You're worried by that thought?"

"It never occurred to me before that I might have to go somewhere else. She was so looking forwards to having me _back home_, whatever that means. Now, thinking about it, it makes sense that you can't keep me here forever. So, how long?"

"I understand that the thought must be frightening for you. I want to be honest with you. We thought about transferring you to the normal ward next week. Now that I know what an accomplished colleague you are, we will wait until we know more about your health insurance. Maybe it covers single rooms. Until then, you will stay here. Then we have to get you onto solid food as your only nutrient. With this long period of having nothing to eat and the damage the salt water did, it will take a couple more days before we can stop the parenteral nutrition completely. The treatment of your skin can easily be done at any place. The wounds don't seem to be too much infected, so that's pretty much sorted out. So we mainly have to consider the shoulder. It will take some physiotherapy. We will start that on Monday, now that you will be getting some leisure wear tomorrow."

"What about my amnesia?"

"I probably don't have to tell you, as your factual knowledge still seems to be quite good."

"There is nothing you can do, right?"

"As I told you yesterday, we could try hypnosis or psychological treatment…"

"Aaaah, clap-trap!"

"I know your opinion about it, but _if_ anything can help, then it is this _clap-trap_." The treating doctor answered with a smile.

Martin went quiet and stared into thin air. Finally he sighed.

"What am I supposed to do? Where shall I go? Where will I live?"

"You have a home. As far as I understand you have an aunt living in the same village, and you have this Miss Glasson, who seems to be eager to help. About what you can do, we can find out as soon as you are a bit more up to it, and have become used to the idea of being Dr. Ellingham."

"I can't live in a place where everyone knows more about me than I do myself?"

"Of course I do not know that village. Honestly, it would be best if you were in your usual environment. If anything can trigger memories, then it's the surroundings that you're used to."

"It would be an impossible situation, you must see that!" Martin's voice cracked. The thought of being the only ignorant person about his own past in a village full of people who knew better terrified him.

"You don't have to decide today. Maybe in a couple of days, when you have had time to think about it, we can all sit down together and see what we can do about your future. After all, maybe the problem will solve itself in due time."

"Do you really think so?"

Dr. Fellows got up. "I have to see to other patients. I'll send my secretary to bring you the articles." He didn't want to lie to this brilliant surgeon, but he couldn't honestly assure him that he believed that Dr. Ellingham would regain his memory soon.

Martin had sensed what the sudden departure meant. Given the information that he would have to leave as soon as he was physically restored, he had to get used to the idea of walking around in a world that knew more about him than he did, without the experience of how to cope with it. He stared at the door, which provided his safety, but which he soon had to cross to enter the dangerous, unknown world.

When the secretary brought his articles, he buried himself in them to distract his thoughts. Strangely enough, the articles made sense to him. He couldn't remember any of it, but the information seemed to be logical. He kept reading until he dozed off.

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

When Louisa returned to Portwenn, she first stopped at Havenhurst farm. She went to knock and when Joan appeared in the doorframe, Louisa immediately said: "I've just seen Martin."

Joan sighed, put her hand on Louisa's back and led her inside. When she had directed Louisa onto a kitchen chair and sat opposite her at the kitchen table she scolded the younger woman.

"Louisa, you have to stop that. It won't do any good. Shall I drive you over to Wadebridge tomorrow? I really think you should see a doctor."

Louisa smiled at Joan and took both her hands in hers.

"No, Joan. I didn't see his _apparition_, and I certainly have not been hallucinating. I _really_ saw him."

Joan withdrew her hands vigorously and got up, messing around with the dishes waiting for washing up. She turned around brusquely.

"Louisa. This isn't funny. I don't think you have any idea how much you're hurting me with these stupid ideas of yours."

Louisa got up and hugged Joan. Then she looked her in the eye.

"Joan. I'm not Bodmin. He is alive. I've just been at a hospital in Plymouth. Joe informed me this morning that he received a circular letter about an unknown patient in Plymouth. I went down there to check it out. And it is Martin. It really is."

Joan stared at her in disbelief. Then she broke down crying. All the pressure of pulling herself together, fighting her grief, was suddenly released. She sank down onto the chair. Louisa took her into her arms and rocked her gently.

"That's right, Joan. Just let it go. You don't have to pull yourself together anymore. Everything will be OK now."

For several minutes the two women stayed in that reassuring hug, until Joan's crying subsided, leaving her just sniffing here and then.

Joan looked up to Louisa with red, puffy eyes. "Sorry for everything I said. For discouraging you in keeping your hopes high."

"You were right, Joan. It was the most logical prospect. Let's forget about that and simply enjoy that he's back."

"I'll make us some tea." Joan said, but Louisa stopped her.

"If you don't mind me using your kitchen, I would love to do that. Just sit quietly and try to compose yourself."

"No problem. Help yourself. I'll just go outside a bit. I need some air."

She stepped outside and looked over at the sea. Suddenly, the Cornish coast looked peaceful and idyllic again. Suddenly she counted her blessings that she was privileged to live in such a beautiful spot where people from all over the world came to for holidays. She was really lucky to live here – and even had some family around.

To have Marty around. She tried to grasp the fact that in Plymouth he was lying peacefully and – well, how seriously was he injured? She could hear the kettle whistle inside. She breathed in the beautiful Cornish air. Then she went inside again.

Louisa was just putting the tea pot and two mugs on the table.

"Better?"

"Much."

"Have some tea. I made it especially strong. I think we both need it."

The first cup they drank in silence. Louisa didn't want to rush, Joan didn't dare to ask. She wasn't sure if she could take the description of his condition. However, pouring the second cup, she knew she had to find out.

"Is he in a coma?"

"No! Not at all. His spirits are quite high. Actually, before I even saw him I heard him shout. He could be heard all over the floor, criticizing the poor nurses." Louisa told Joan cheerfully. Joan chuckled.

"Yes, I can imagine. That sounds like him." Joan grew serious again, brooding over the tea.

"So how badly is he injured?"

"His shoulder was dislocated and he has quite severe sunburn. He was undernourished and a couple of bruises. That sort of thing."

"Has he been in hospital since yesterday, then? Did he put you down as next of kin?"

"No, Joan, he wouldn't do that to you! You're his next of kin, and will remain so for quite a while, I hope. He's been in hospital since Wednesday."

"So why weren't we informed earlier? And where has he been in-between?"

Louisa realised that now was the time to dampen the joy. "Joan, there is one thing more. We don't know what happened, because…" Louisa paused, then sighed…"because he can't remember."

Joan didn't seem concerned, but answered quite lightly. "As I understand it's quite common that after a traumatic experience you can't remember what happened. I don't see any need to worry. Either it sorts itself out, otherwise we have to wait for the results of the police investigation. Even if we don't ever know, the most important thing is that Marty's back."

Louisa took Joan's hands. "It's not just that, I'm afraid. It's worse. He can't remember a thing. Nothing. He didn't know his name, he didn't know where he lives or what he does for a living. His first question towards me was '_Do I know you?'_"

"Silly boy! You deserve better!"

"No, Joan! It's not his fault! He simply doesn't know anything!"

Joan paused, thinking about the enormity Louisa had just told her. "So he doesn't know who he is at all?"

"Sorry, but no."

"Must be galling."

"I didn't have much time to speak to him. He seemed quite '_normal_', if that's the right word for a man in his condition. He seems weak, and exhausted, but he is still his composed, obnoxious self."

"So he doesn't know anything anymore? All his eager studies have been for nothing?"

"That's the strange thing, though. His factual memory seems to be intact. In fact, when he woke up Wednesday morning on the Plymouth Sounds, his first thoughts were about diagnosing himself. Correctly, of course." Louisa couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "It's just his private memories that seem to be completely lost at the moment."

"That's no great loss, I suppose." Joan sighed, then squeezed Louisa's hand. "At least we've got him back. We are a pair of weirdoes, actually longing for him to throw insults at us."

"He's more than that, even when I admit I wouldn't mind it a bit right now." Louisa grew serious. "Joan. He needs us now. We've got to help him to get a grip on his life again."

"You mean we can make him remember? I don't even know if I want that."

"About the memory, it will sort itself out in time – or maybe not. Obviously science is at its wit's end there. They can't do much. Just wait and see."

"But memory or no memory – he has to organise his life again. I don't know how, but somehow it has to go on. I will talk to Dr. Fellows tomorrow about it."

"You're going down to Plymouth tomorrow?"

"I am."

"Can I come with you?"

Louisa looked sad and guilty towards Joan. "I'm truly sorry, but I ruined that for you for a few days to come. They want him to get used to me first, before they introduce him to someone else. You see, we're strangers to him, and too many new faces might be too confusing. As I was thoughtless enough to head down to Plymouth without telling you, I am his only allowed visitor for some days. I'm really sorry."

"That's alright, Louisa. I'm glad it's you. You can be more of a help to him, and he will prefer your company to mine. If you need any help, just say so."

"He needs some things. Actually, can you help me? I…It doesn't feel right to rummage through his things to gather what he needs. He never invited me to his rooms, and it simply doesn't feel right to go there out of sheer necessity. I would very much appreciate if you could pack his bag. Besides, I don't have a key to his cottage."

"Don't worry. I have a spare key. I will pack his things. How many suits do you think he'll need?" Joan chuckled.

"Actually, Dr. Fellows ordered especially _leisure wear_."

"Marty and leisure wear? That's a good joke! I bet he'd have to look that up in the dictionary."

Louisa put on a serious face and said then in all earnest. "So don't forget to pack all of his track suits."

Joan chimed in. "And his Bermuda shorts, maybe?"

Louisa and Joan were giggling now. "Together with his famous Hawaiian shirts?" The two women took pleasure in listing all of the silly outfits Martin would never wear, having a good laugh. Oh, it was so good to have a proper laugh again! How much Louisa had missed it, to be silly without any dark clouds. Martin was not well, that was true, but then again it was no reason to despair. They would sort things out. The three of them together could do it.

_To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The next morning Louisa and Joan met at Martin's cottage. It felt odd for Louisa to be there when Martin wasn't around. Time hadn't been merciful to the cottage either. It could use a good clean.

Joan disappeared upstairs with a travelling bag. First she went into the bathroom to fill a toilet bag with all of the grooming products she could find.

Then she went into his bedroom. She was no regular upstairs either, so she had to look through all the cupboards and dressers she could find. Luckily, some of his sleeping bottoms could pass as joggers, together with some T-shirts this would have to do for _leisure wear_. She also packed his robe and also two suits, just in case. Somehow it felt wrong _not_ to pack a suit for Martin, as the two were almost synonymous.

Joan also looked at the bedside table and packed the books and journals she found there, too. Of course, they were all medical literature.

When Joan came downstairs, Louisa took the bag.

"Got everything?"

"Hope so. It's the first time I've pack a bag for a man. Phil and I never travelled, so there never was any need to. So I'm not sure what they do need, but it will have to do."

"Well, look on the bright side – he won't remember if anything is missing."

"True."

"So I'm off to Plymouth."

"Give him my love."

"I will."

Joan headed back to the farm. Her whole life made much more sense again, now that Marty was around – somewhere.

Louisa drove down to Plymouth. She never had been a keen driver, but for a change the long journey didn't bother her a bit. Arriving at Plymouth hospital, she went to the reception and asked for Dr. Fellows. She didn't want to make the same mistake again. He had been right. For Martin's sake she had to compose herself and act as the doctor told her. She had waited so long for Martin's return, a few minutes more or less should be of no relevance.

After about 20 minutes she was directed to Dr. Fellows' office. He confirmed that the police had checked the information she had given. They had contacted Dr. Ellingham's dentist and could positively identify him according to his dental records. There was not a shred of doubt anymore that the patient really was Dr. Martin Ellingham, not that Louisa had had any doubts since seeing the picture PC Penhale had brought to her cottage.

Louisa waited patiently until the formalities were over and she had answered all of Dr. Fellows' questions the best she could. She had sat down with Joan the evening before to fill out the forms that Louisa was unable to complete. They also had discussed the subject of favourite music or such to trigger his memory. Louisa was relieved and sad at the same time to find out that Joan also had no clue about any pleasant memories that could help him to remember. In fact, Joan had pointed out that if Louisa's presence couldn't trigger anything, then nothing could. In Joan's opinion, Louisa was by far the best thing that had ever happened to her nephew.

"How is he today, Dr. Fellows?"

"Stable. Physically he's making good progress. Now that he has leisure wear and has regained some strength, we can start physiotherapy. That should help his shoulder as well as strengthening his muscles. He must have been sitting tied up for most of the time during those five weeks, so his legs and arms are weakened. We will start training tomorrow."

"And his amnesia?"

"No progress there. With what you tell me, it's difficult to find a way to get to him. After you'd left he asked for some of the articles he had written. He read them and he could understand them, but had no recollection of writing them. It is somewhat reassuring that he seems to know the tricks of the trade still."

"So – just in case he won't be able to remember – do you think he could work again as a doctor."

"Not without training and some exams, I'm afraid."

"So he has to study medicine all over again?"

"We have to see what we can do to speed things up, when the time comes."

"Can't you do anything for him?"

"The only therapy that might work is psychotherapy. Some swear there are positive results after hypnosis. Problem is, when we sent our psychiatrist over, Dr. Ellingham was, let's say, not very cooperative."

"Yes, I see."

"You expected something like this?"

"Let's say, I'm not really surprised. Is there anything I can do?"

"Difficult, science still doesn't understand completely how memory works, so amnesia is difficult to treat."

"Well, maybe I can help with some practical things. I've been thinking. He must have had several things on him – mobile, credit card, driver's license, possibly passport, his keys. This sort of thing. Isn't it necessary to get them cancelled, replacements ordered and the locks changed. I would like to suggest that to Martin, to organize that for him. Do you think that would be alright?"

"I'm not so sure that he is ready to make decisions of that scale, but basically you're right. These things should be done, the sooner the better. Furthermore, it would be of great help if you could check his health insurance. We have to know as soon as possible what is covered and what isn't."

"I'll ask Martin."

"That is pretty straightforward, so we can't really wait until he's able to make decisions again."

"Sorry, but I won't do anything that affects him without his permission."

"That is very noble of you, but we have to see the practical side…" He was cut short by Louisa's sharp intervention.

"To get this straight. I am not prepared to treat Dr. Ellingham as if he is barmy, merely five years old or not a member of the human race. I have the highest respect for him – always had and still have – and he is far more intelligent than I could dream of being. Whatever I do, I will do with his consent or not at all, even if that means delay in action. Let's face it, all necessary actions are delayed by five weeks already, as we didn't know what would be necessary for all this time. A day more or less can't be that important, really."

"Dr. Fellows, I realised yesterday how much it hurts him not to be in control, not to have a say about his own affairs. I will not add to this. He shall always have the feeling that I will discuss things with him, and that he will make the decisions."

"Mrs. Glasson, I have to warn you that it might not work that way. He is not the same person you know. He is bereft of all of his experience. He has most of his knowledge and surely his intellect – we also noticed it to be above average, but to use it, he has to have experience. Even when you make suggestions, he won't be able to judge them properly. So he might become frustrated because of that. He still might feel that he's at your mercy and you're making the decisions for him."

"Fine. I do understand, but I won't act deliberately in giving him reason to think so. Sorry."

"Then, go ahead and discuss the things with him. Let's see how it goes. Your choice."

"Thanks. Can I visit him now?"

"Sure."

To be continued…


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Louisa went to Martin's room and knocked. Only when she heard a meek "Come in", did she enter.

"Oh, Miss Glasson…"

"Martin, what did I tell you?"

"Right. Eeehhh. Louisa? You really came back?"

"Of course, Martin. You need your stuff, don't you? Besides, I missed you." She held the bag up. "Where shall I place this?"

"Right there." Martin pointed towards a locker. "At last I can get out of this stupid hospital gown! These things are made for dwarfs!"

"I can imagine they don't cover your tall frame. Shall I help you?"

"NOOO! No, thanks. I can manage."

"You're sure, I mean with the sling and all those tubes." Martin looked down at him and realised that, indeed, he would struggle to get himself into some proper clothes.

"Uuuhmmm. Right. Let's see."

"Maybe I can fetch a nurse to help you, if you really don't want me…"

"No! A nurse would be fine. Uuuuhhhmmm…and Louisa, would you mind to…" He pointed towards the door with his eyes.

"I'll get you a nurse, then I'll get myself some tea. See you when you're all dressed. Right?"

Martin looked relieved and nodded.

No sooner said than done. Louisa went onto the hallway and had soon found a nurse, who disappeared behind the door. Louisa went along the floor, looking for a vending machine. Finally she found one and got herself a cup of tea. Then she returned to Martin's room, waiting for the nurse to return. Shortly afterwards, the poor woman came out, shaking her head, muttering to herself.

Louisa peeked in. "Can I come in? Are you decent?"

"Yes, come in."

Louisa rushed in, came over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she sat down beside his bed. An awkward silence followed between them. Louisa looked at him, still excited and delighted to have him back. Martin looked up, trying to figure out what to say and why this woman underwent the ordeal of a 50 miles-journey just to visit him.

Louisa broke the silence first. "Joan sends you her love."

"Right. My aunt?"

"Yes, Martin." He nodded.

"Do you have everything you need?"

"I suppose so."

"Joan packed your bag. I didn't want to intrude on your privacy since you had never invited me upstairs. I thought with Joan, it's in the family."

"Yes, I understand." He cleared his throat. He looked cautiously over to Louisa. "Eeeehmm….What I want to ask, I mean, it sounds silly – but is there anything wrong with the way I look?"

"What do you mean? You've been through a lot, obviously, and it shows, yes."

"No, I mean – I noticed the razor in the toiletry bag."

"Oh, that." Louisa let her fingers glide over his facial hair. "Well, that's a bit odd, to be honest. There never was even a shadow of stubble on your chin. I don't know how you did it. Even in the evenings you were always perfectly clean shaven."

Martin scrubbed his beard. "But Martin, if you haven't been cared for properly for five weeks, I think it's what you'd expect." Louisa let her hands run through his hair.

"So I don't look my usual self? But you recognised me at once?"

"Oh Martin, there are so many things that are unmistakeably you. It just needed one quick glance to know that it was you!"

"By the way, the police confirmed your identification."

"I never doubted it."

"Sorry that I did, yesterday." He looked bashfully down.

"Don't worry, I wasn't taking it too seriously. This whole situation must be confusing."

"It is. Well, maybe I had better shave, now that I know that I should. I hope I remember how."

"Actually, I asked Dr. Fellows about it yesterday. He would prefer that you wait a bit. Your skin is still quite…"

"Yeah, I know! These stupid arseholes! Whoever did this! Do you know they have given me a proper chance of developing melanoma? It's absolutely irresponsible!"

Louisa chuckled.

"There is _nothing_ funny about it!"

"Oh, I just remembered how you stared at the bosom of a sun-bathing tourist, and how she had gotten it the wrong way. She just thought you were a pervert, while you were just concerned about a mole on her cleavage."

"Never mind her! It was _her _choice! But you don't actually believe that the skin takes it very kindly if it is baked in the sun for five weeks!"

"Yes, Martin, I know – and I'm sorry. However, for the moment we can just treat it carefully and avoid any more disturbances. So, I guess, the beard has to stay a bit."

"But there are other things I thought about, and I don't know – some of them might be urgent. I wanted to discuss them with you and, if you like, see what I can do."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this? Why do you ask me? Everyone else just does what he think is right. I can't tell you what to do."

"Maybe not, but it is _your_ life and I don't want to interfere with it. I'm happy to help, though, whatever I can do. Do you feel up to discussing things?"

"Well, fire ahead. Let's see if I can contribute in any way."

"First, you must have had personal items on you when you went missing: your mobile – you never left without it, and you only switched it off in case of emergencies, your credit card presumably, I don't know if you have a passport?"

"I sure don't know."

"Well, I thought it would be best to have them cancelled. Replace them, so that no one can use your account?"

"Yes, you're right! Actually, I don't know if the police…"

"Might be possible. Do you have the contact details of the officer in charge?"

"You don't possibly believe they'd tell me? Ask Dr. Fellows."

"Right, I will, but is it OK for you if I take care of that."

"Makes perfect sense."

"Then your driving licence – will you get it back?"

Martin thought for a moment. "I…don't know. I mean, I must have had one on me when I drove to the emergency. Is it still valid, I wonder?"

"I can inquire about that if you don't mind."

"I don't know if I can drive. I can't remember."

"Well, to get you back to your own life you should have a driving licence. Without a car, you're pretty much lost in Portwenn."

"Then go ahead, try to find out. Anything else"

"Actually, what about your keys?"

"My keys?"

"Yes, to your cottage and surgery. I..well…when we went there, everything was alright, but think about it, whoever is behind this must have free access to your cottage right now. They must have the keys, and, honestly, I wouldn't want it that way when you come back."

"Good grief! You're right!" Martin had become pale and was slightly panicking.

"You see, I would suggest replacing all the locks before you're out of here. The sooner, the better – I'd say."

"Yes, yes – that's paramount. Please do it."

"I will contact the locksmith tomorrow and have security locks installed immediately." Martin took a deep breath.

"Oh Louisa, there are so many things to think about, and I just realised that I'm not up to it in any way."

"You'll learn, maybe you'll even remember."

"I can't just depend on you."

"That's OK. It's just for the moment. I can hardly wait for the day when you tell me what to do again. That won't be long."

"Did I do that?"

"Well, when you think you're right, then you're quite determined, yes. Trouble is, you are mostly right."

"I couldn't have always been right, could I?"

"In your job, I've never seen you make a mistake. Sometimes you may have been on the wrong track to start off with, but you followed the case until you came to the right conclusion."

Martin started to fumble on his blanket. There was one question burning in his mind since yesterday – why was he a GP? He had read his own publications since yesterday, and they spoke a different language. According to them, he was a vascular surgeon with a teaching job at university. Until now, he hadn't found a logical explanation why he wasn't anymore. Private reasons were obviously not responsible for his downgrading. He still was petrified to think he might have caused harm – or even death – to one of his patients. He hadn't asked Dr. Fellows to find out, yet. He had decided to ask his lady visitor first. _If _she knew, he didn't have to let another person in on this secret.

_To be continued…_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

He kept on looking indecisively towards Louisa. She could sense that something was troubling him, so she kept quiet and waited for him to make his decision.

"I don't know if I really want to know, and I don't know if you know – but, why am I a GP?"

"As I understand, your father was a doctor, too, so I presume…"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, obviously I had been a vascular surgeon until a few years ago. You're not a surgeon one day and a GP the other without reason. Did I, I mean – was I responsible for…?"

"No, Martin, you haven't harmed any of your patients, if that's what you're afraid of. Quite the contrary! You saved a lot of people. At least as a GP, I have often witnessed that."

"But do you know why I'm not a surgeon anymore?"

"Well, actually, you told me."

"Is it very bad?"

"No, not really. You see, you…" Louisa thought about a way to put it, then decided to quote him. "…you developed _'A minor anxiety disorder brought on by an overexposure in a high-pressure environment'_."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"You were about to operate on a patient, and you had noticed earlier in her room how the whole family clung to her and didn't want to let her go out of concern. Somehow, it affected you, and you couldn't operate. You developed a little problem with blood."

"Problem, what kind of problem?"

"You don't know?"

"No, how could I?"

"I mean, you're in a hospital, you surely must have seen, or smelled…"

"Seen or smelled what?"

"Blood."

Martin thought for a moment. Sure he had seen how they had drawn blood. In the first couple of days, some of his wounds had still been bleeding occasionally, and inserting a catheter is also not done without a drop of blood."

"Sure, on few occasions there was a bit of it, but not much."

"And you haven't noticed anything?"

"Like what?"

"Like…feeling odd?"

"I _am_ feeling odd at the moment."

"No, I mean, queasy."

"No, not particularly."

Louisa stared at him, trying to believe what that meant. "So you're cured?" She asked cheerily.

"Cured of what? I'd say I'm not cured from a great many things."

"Yes, but…well, as it is, you always felt sick at the sight and smell of blood, actually throwing up. Haemophobia. But you haven't noticed?"

Martin paused. Hesitantly he answered. "No. No, I haven't. Actually, I don't really mind the sight."

Louisa slung her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "That's great, Martin! You're cured!"

"If only that had been the only thing I've forgotten…"

"Oh, don't be impatient. It will become better. It will be good. I know. Nothing can go wrong now."

Martin wasn't so sure and felt a bit uncomfortable about this outburst. He also tried to digest the information. A surgeon with haemophobia? That was a good one. Then another thing hit him, which made him spit out a bitter laugh.

Louisa drew back, looking at him incredulously.

"What, Martin?"

"Don't you see it? It's really funny, isn't it? Life certainly has a cruel sense of humour!"

"What do you mean?"

"First my career was ruined by the most outrageous handicap for a surgeon, and when I finally get over it, at the price of forgetting all about my trade altogether! I would be physically able now to perform surgery, if I only could remember how! Isn't that a good joke? A cruel one, I admit, but _bloody_ good!"

"Please, Martin, don't look at it that way. See it as some sort of progress."

"Progress – from handicap to nothing? Great progress. If I progress any further at that speed, the next thing that will be happening is me falling out of this bed and breaking my neck!" He spat out another bitter laugh. Then sadly added. "Maybe that wouldn't be the worst solution for all of us."

_To be continued…_


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Louisa couldn't bear it. She still was so happy to have him back. Why couldn't he see that this was the most important thing? But then again, in his experience he never had been missing. He always knew that he was alive. It was now that he didn't know anything anymore. His future must look pretty bleak to him.

"Martin, if it is of any comfort for you, to me it would be the worst possible solution I could think of."

"Would spare you a hell of a trip each day and you could go on with your life. Actually, I thought about it. It's not good for you to come here every day. I…I won't be of any use to you in the foreseeable future. I'm just a burden. Now that you've brought me my things, I think I should try to…"

"NO! No, Martin. You're no burden! Martin, I waited so terribly long to be able to do something for you. I was so horribly afraid that I might never see you again. _Please_, allow me to visit you. I need it. I need you."

"Stop fooling yourself. You need the man you used to know. Look at me!" He cupped her face with one hand and made her look at him. "Look at this sorry excuse for a human being! _This_ is me now! I'm not the doctor you used to know!"

"What I see now is good enough for me."

"Pah! You're stuck in some romantic idea. I'm a mere child right now, and everyone except you sees it and treats me that way."

"If I know anything about, then it's children, as I am the head teacher of the Portwenn school. So _if_ you were at that stage right now, which is not the case, I would be _exactly _the right person to help you. And while we're at it, as a teacher I know the most important thing with children is to get them to stand on their own two feet as soon as possible. What are _you_ doing to stand on your own two feet again?"

"It might have escaped you that I can't even dress myself, let alone stand on my feet!"

"No, Martin, not yet, but how is the therapy going?"

"They will start physio tomorrow. As you well know, I didn't even have anything to wear before today!"

"I wasn't talking about those _feet. _Haven't they tried anything yet?" Louisa asked with a knowing look.

"Aaaahh."

"What '_Aaaah_'."

"You talked with Dr. Fellows."

"Of course I did. I'm worried about you."

"And he's never heard of patient's confidentiality, has he?"

"He needs some support. _You _need support."

"Great, as I said. I'm a mere child and he has to talk to the mother first."

"I _am not_ your mother. In case it has escaped you, I'm several years younger. Besides, you never triggered any mother instincts in me. I was just asking what can be done about amnesia and then inquired why they don't do it."

"Ahhh, claptrap."

Louisa jumped up from the bed, really frustrated she paced up and down the room. "You're really one of a kind, Martin Ellingham! You didn't know your name, you don't know where you live, and you don't know who you are – but you _do_ know that psychotherapy is claptrap! I'm really glad that you at least remember the really important things in life!"

Martin looked indignant, and now – acting really like a child – just crossed his arms in front of his chest in defeat and looked away.

Louisa came back to sit on his bed, more sad than angry now.

"Martin, I know you never ever have accepted help before, but do you really think you can go through this alone?"

No answer.

"Even without your amnesia, what you've been through must have been pretty traumatic. You do need professional help."

"Mmmpphh…professional." Sneered Martin.

"You're a doctor. What would you do if you'd seen someone with distinct symptoms of a certain disorder, you would offer him the right therapy and he refused to take it? What would you say, hmmm?"

"They don't offer _therapy_! It's just nonsense!"

"As far as I understood Dr. Fellows there are good results with hypnosis…"

This word did it. Martin turned around and glowered at Louisa.

"What, Martin?"

"Hypnosis my foot!"

"If that's the only thing that works, why not try it?"

"Try it? Do you know what this means?"

"As far as I understand they try to reach subconscious layers by..:"

"_Subconscious layers! _You're really good! The idea is to release you of all your control over your thoughts! I have hardly any grip on my life now, I can't afford to lose any more! I'd be perfectly at the therapist's mercy!"

Louisa could see that this thought must be truly terrifying for Martin. "Yes, I understand. Did you tell him that?"

"Whom?"

"Dr. Fellows or the psychiatrist?"

"None of their business."

"They _are_ your treating doctors, so maybe they should know. Maybe there are other options which could leave you with more control, which you'd feel more comfortable with?"

"_Maybe I can tell him about my childhood_?" Martin sneered.

"No, probably not." There was a sharp edge in Louisa's voice. "But if I knew what to do, you wouldn't need a psychiatrist. That's why you call them specialists – they know their stuff better."

"That's all they do."

"Do what?"

"Know better."

"Then I don't know what you're moaning about, because that's what you need right now – someone to know better." She grabbed his hand. "Martin, I really love doing everything for you, but I can't help you there. I'm not qualified. If you just needed someone to talk to, I'd gladly lend an ear, but the help you need is beyond my powers. There is nothing wrong with accepting help."

He tried to shrug her off.

"No, Martin, you have to get used to it. You _have_ to learn to accept help. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you won't need any."

"How can they possibly help? They talk a lot of nonsense and show mock sympathy, get a hefty wage for it and you end up nowhere!"

"Do you have any better idea? You seem to know everything, all of a sudden. So _you_ tell me what can be done!"

He coughed nervously and withdrew stubbornly deeper under the blanket.

_To be continued…_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"And Martin, if you don't want to be treated like a child, you shouldn't act like one. You really think this is all about you, do you? You are the centre of this little universe of sorrow, and all the nurses, doctors, therapists, and – yes – me, too, orbit around your core of tragedy."

"Don't be pathetic!" Martin snarled.

"Well, at least I'm not such a drama queen."

"Pardon?"

"Maybe I have followed the wrong tactics until now. Yes, you've been through a lot. Yes, you do need support. But you also have to take on responsibility. The responsibility to do everything to make things better. Don't mope about the past."

"I hardly can, can I?" Martin interrupted her sarcastically.

"Oh, you do. You do hardly anything else, as far as I can see."

Now Martin propped himself up in bed to look towards Louisa, who was energetically pacing the room.

"You're talking nonsense. I've got no past."

Louisa realised that finally she had at least his attention, so she came over to his bed again. "Of course you have, and right now this boils down for you to this one incident which left you physically harmed and mentally damaged."

"But I don't even know what happened."

"Maybe that makes it even worse. Your whole thinking seems to concentrate on what might have happened to you."

"That's hardly surprising."

"I know, and I understand. Nevertheless, it doesn't do you any good, does it?"

"There's hardly anything else I can do. I can hardly contemplate my latest cases, can I?"

"See, that's what I mean. Why _your latest_ cases? It's the past. Why not try to figure out what to do to get back on track? I don't know, maybe make a list what you can still do, what you still know. Then trying to figure out what to do to fill the gaps. Forget the past."

Martin grunted. "Hard to do. How do you forget something you don't remember?"

"No, Martin, what I mean is, forget that there is a past. Focus on the future."

"Sounds good the way you talk about it, but how? I don't know where to start. How can I detect gaps when I don't know what should be there?"

"That's where you have to accept help."

"Aahhh."

"The sooner you get that into that thick little head of yours, the better."

"Dr. Fellows instructed you to work on me, I suppose."

"No, just my common sense. What is your solution? Do you have any better ideas?"

Martin kept silent.

"Well, I'm waiting."

Still no answer.

"Or do you plan to retreat under the blanket, stay in bed for the rest of your miserable life, moping about your fate and let other people do the work for you, trying to exploit their sympathy?"

"You seem to have a very high opinion of me."

Louisa continued in a softer way. "Yes, Martin. I always had and still have a very high opinion. That's exactly why I don't want that kind of future for you. That's why I don't want you to settle in your misery. Look, we both don't know when and if you will regain your memory."

Martin sat up alarmed.

"I'm sorry, Martin, but that's how it is. So we have to make plans for the worst case scenario, meaning that we have to try to get you into a _normal_ life even if you can not remember. Does that make any sense to you?"

"I'm not daft!"

"Exactly, that's why I really think you can make it. No matter what. And if you don't want to try for your own sake, please think about what I said. It's not just about you."

"Yes, but no one else was involved, were they?"

"Not in the sense that someone else was abducted, but what about Joan? She tried to pull herself together, but she had buried a husband, lost a lover and now she thought she had lost you, too. You're almost like a son to her. She doesn't have any children. Don't you think she suffered while we didn't know anything about you? Don't you think you owe it to her to make things work?"

"Then me. I was worried sick, literally. I wasn't so good at pulling myself together. I was good for nothing. I neglected my job, myself, my life – until Joan came and gave me a piece of her mind. It wasn't easy for me either, but I realised that you can't allow pain to dominate your life. No matter how much you're suffering. Nevertheless, life hardly seemed worth living without you."

"Not least of all the village."

"The village?"

"Yes, Martin. That's what villages are for – to care for one another. Not long after you were gone, they organised a search. For several weeks many men of the village spent _hours_ of their spare time walking along the cliffs, looking for traces of you – for anything that could shed a light. Do you think the police found your car? No, it was Al's search party!"

"Al?"

"A young lad in the village. He had been trekking in the woods once with a friend. They got lost and the friend of his was bitten by a snake and showed signs of an anaphylactic shock. It was you who searched the woods for them, you didn't give up until you found them, saving his friend's life. Al never forgot that, so it was a question of honour for him to do everything in his power to help you. He was the one organising it, but there were dozens who helped him, spending more time on the cliffs looking for you than with their families. Don't you think you owe them to do something reasonable with your life, now that you have a chance?"

"They took responsibility for your life, you have to do the same now."

"By the way, the village is still worried sick, as I haven't informed them yet. I didn't want to tell them something you don't want to have told. So I kept quiet. Even Penhale didn't spread any news, astonishingly enough."

"Penhale?"

"Our local PC. He showed me your picture. Without him I'd have never found you."

"So it's just normal that he hasn't spread any news. He can't talk about police matters."

"Well, in a village it doesn't always work that way. I'd say it's more likely that it is out of respect for you."

"You see, Martin – many people are affected by this whole affair in many ways. That's why you _have_ to try."

"I don't know how."

"Talk with Dr. Fellows about it tomorrow. Maybe he can help. And – _please_ – start the psychotherapy!

"For tonight I already have something for you to think about. I'll have to inform the village soon about your re-appearance. Can you think about what you want me to say?"

"I certainly can't help you there! I have no clue who they are!"

"Well, I'm not saying you should write me a speech. Just think about it generally what information you can accept to be passed on to others. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Don't expect too much."

"I don't. There is just one more thing."

"Oooohh. Please don't. My head is buzzing already."

"Dr. Fellows was very eager that I should make inquiries about your health insurance. He suspects you might be privately insured. That would help them a lot to provide optimum treatment for you. Well, as long as you accept the therapy, that is."

"Louisa, I'm tired. I understood your point, and I will think about it as soon as I am capable of it. In the meantime, feel free to run through my papers to find what you need."

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes, Louisa. There is one thing I need very much now. Rest."

"Right, I see. I'll be off then."

_To be continued…_


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

While Louisa drove down to Portwenn, Martin was left thinking hard. His first reaction had been anger. What did this woman think talking to him that way? He clearly was the victim and not in any condition to do something.

Then he thought what she had said about a future. In one point she had been right, he hadn't ever thought about what to do when he came out of hospital – where to go, how to earn money, these _normal_ things.

For him, this time in hospital meant that he had to be cured, and then he would be _normal_ again and able to function properly. He didn't see any need to make plans before he wasn't completely cured – physically as well as mentally.

Maybe he really had to start making plans – also for a life without any memories. No matter how frightening this thought was to him.

It might help, he decided, if he could get his mind off his present condition. He just had to find a way, how to do it. Maybe he could talk to Dr. Fellows about it tomorrow.

Reading his own articles had been interesting, and maybe he could get some medical literature, first because he had fun reading it, second because it might help him to get back into a normal life. He remembered that his luggage contained some medical journals. Obviously something he had been reading when his life had been so mercilessly disrupted. He should ask the nurse to hand it to him when she came.

Now, thinking about it, he had to confess that he really had neglected the present and the future and concentrated too hard on the lack of a past. Even the constant realisation of not having a past was concentrating on it in a strange, unproductive way.

The one thing he felt less willing to give in to was the thing about psychotherapy. He couldn't say why, but somehow his whole being strongly rejected any thought about this treatment. Surely he could do without.

He should concentrate on his medical studies, concentrating on his kind of condition, and maybe he could work it out himself. It felt, well, maybe humiliating to drag someone into his innermost feelings. He didn't know if this was a vulnerability because of his condition, but somehow he felt defensive about this core of his being, and maybe more than just a tiny bit afraid of what might lie there.

At the same time in the car Louisa thought about her day while driving home to Portwenn. On her way to Plymouth a couple of hours earlier, she had been so cheerful. Now her mood was definitely dampened. Maybe she had been too harsh on Martin? He had been through a lot and having no memories at all and having to depend on someone else even for the most common activities must be horrid. Especially for an independent, strong character like Martin. She really felt that he hadn't changed much. He was just more bitter than usual – if that was possible – and maybe even more stubborn, but generally she couldn't see much difference to his _usual_ self. Maybe that's why she found it so confusing when he acted so odd. Maybe she had to force herself to realise that this was _not_ the Martin she knew.

But what was the alternative? To treat him like everyone else seemed to treat him now? To treat him as if he had no say in his own matters? She shuddered. She couldn't do that. Not to him.

Even though it was difficult for him to get a grip on life again at the moment. He was Martin Ellingham, the most proud, independent, dependable, honest and adult man she had ever met. And she refused to see him in any other way. He would get there. Eventually.

Maybe now was the time to concentrate on the practical issues. His health would sort itself out, sooner or later.

This morning she had acquired a headset for her mobile, realising that she would be driving more often from now on and also having to be in contact with Joan more. By voice control, she dialled Joan's number.

"Yes?"

"Hello Joan, Louisa here."

"How is he?"

"Difficult."

"That's not new. He's difficult at the best of times."

"No, I mean – yes, he is, in a way – but that's not what I mean. The whole situation."

"Yeah, I can imagine. How is he coping?"

"Stubbornly refusing help."

"So he hasn't changed much."

"No, just that he doesn't know that he is his obnoxious self. He was really infuriating today. Maybe I was a bit harsh on him, but I couldn't stand his bleak comments about his state and his future. I don't want him to drown in self-pity."

"So he's really low?"

"A bit, yes. But of course he doesn't need psychological treatment! That's claptrap."

Joan laughed. "Good to hear that he is his usual self. Thanks for calling me and letting me know. You're still on your way back?"

"Yes, just taken the A38."

"Had anything to eat?"

"Nope, not yet."

"Shall I meet you at your place and bring some pie?"

"That'll be lovely, but I have another favour to ask."

"Shoot, it's for my nephew anyway."

"Let's meet at the surgery. We have to go through his things again."

"So he _did _notice that something was missing?"

"Martin didn't, but Dr. Fellows needs his health insurance number and company. You don't know by any chance if he is privately insured?"

"Nope, sorry. I could imagine he is, but we don't talk about those things normally."

"I thought so. So we have to search through his things again. Actually, he gave his permission."

"Doesn't have much choice, does he?"

"No, suppose not. See you."

"At the surgery."

So both women approached Fern Cottage. When Louisa pulled her car into the parking space, Joan's pickup was already waiting.

Joan searched again in his private upper floor, while Louisa had a look around the ground floor.

Louisa tried to remind herself not to breach patient's confidentiality, so whenever she suspected that a drawer or a cupboard contained patient's data, she shut it immediately, knowing how particular he was about it.

Now she looked at his home with different eyes, as she had to scan every folder, every drawer, if it might contain official papers. Now she realised how little of a private life he had. At least downstairs. She surely hoped that Joan would find other things in his utterly private surroundings. He had a DVD player, but no DVDs except for some medical teaching sessions and expert documentaries. There was not one single CD to be found, and also no iPod or MP3 player. The only books and magazines she could see were medical ones.

Louisa really loved her job, and she also acknowledged that Martin was so dedicated to his profession, but having your whole existence reduced to your job?

She couldn't imagine giving her job up for anything in the world, and she really loved making a difference in the development of _her_ children, but she also needed some time for herself, for _Louisa Glasson_, reading a nice novel, watching a silly tearjerker on the telly or from her limited, but treasured DVD collection. She had some CDs with some romantic pop ballads, and she loved to just sit, staring out at the sea and dreaming away. There had been one certain doctor making his appearance in these dreams for the last couple of years regularly.

Seeing Martin's rooms, she couldn't catch a glimpse of the private person at all. No books, no music, not even one photo. There was nothing that gave the private man away.

There was not even a little corner where not everything was meticulously tidied up and sorted, even when it was a bit dusty now.

While Louisa was still in her thoughts, Joan made her way down the stairs.

"Got it, I think. This folder says on the back '_Insurances'._ I never thought I'd be grateful one day that Martin is such a nitpicker."

Now it paid that Louisa had to do all of the administrative stuff as head teacher, and in no time she had all the necessary information.

Joan and Louisa then went over to _White Rose Cottage_, where a nice mushroom and chicken pie was warmed up, that Joan had brought.

Sharing their meal, Louisa couldn't help but ask if the upstairs contained more personal belongings of Martin.

"What do you mean? Of course there are his clothes and such."

"No, I just noticed that there is not one photo anywhere downstairs and not one thing that isn't necessary or related to medicine, apart from the few Asian articles, of course."

"Nope, everything's businesslike and tidied upstairs, too. What did you expect?"

"Well, at least I expected _some_ personal touch."

"Medicine is his character; I don't think he needs anything else."

"Well, speaking of what he needs…" Louisa changed the subject, hoping that – in time – he might need something more personal…very much more personal.

Louisa filled Joan in on the things that she had discussed with Martin about necessary actions.

Joan knew a reliable locksmith and a very patient driving instructor in Wadebridge. She would contact both to change the locks and be on guard for some refresher courses, respectively.

_To be continued…_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

First thing next morning Louisa called the hospital, giving them the name of the insurance company and the insurance policy number. As Dr. Fellows had suspected, Dr. Ellingham was very well covered, so the best treatment shouldn't be any problem. The hospital would get in touch with the insurance company to get things sorted out.

Louisa also enquired about the police officer in charge. She was given the name and the contact number. Louisa tried to reach him before school, but without luck. She left a note on the mailbox. A bit hesitantly she switched her mobile off for giving the lessons and went on with her daily work.

It was a particularly busy day. After all, she had neglected her duties for a couple of weeks, so work was piled on her desk, besides the teaching she had to do.

So it wasn't before 4 pm before she switched her mobile on again. There had been three missed calls.

One number she recognised – it was the hospital. The other two were unknown to her.

So she first called the hospital back, afraid that Martin's condition might have worsened. She was connected with the secretary of Dr. Fellows. Martin had asked to let her know that he'd prefer if she wouldn't call in today. After his first session of physio, he was far too exhausted for any visitors. Besides, he was afraid that she would make the long drive just for him to doze off. Louisa enquired if it would be at least OK to call him, around 6:30, maybe, when the meal was finished. The secretary ensured her she would ask Dr. Ellingham about it. If he felt fit, she would be called.

Louisa hated to admit to it, but she wasn't completely unhappy that she wouldn't have to make the trip to Plymouth today. She had quite some work piled up at her desk at home. This evening she had a chance to catch up with some of it. However, she really hoped she could talk to Martin later. She didn't want to be without any news for a whole day.

Then she returned the first unknown call. It was the police. She talked to a young inspector, who gave the impression of being very efficient. Nevertheless, the facts they could have established up to now were scarce, to put it mildly. Without Martin's memory, they were pretty much stuck. The whole _incident_ must have started at Lundy Bay, where several tides had taken good care of any traces there might have been. It was an educated guess that the further chapters and the finale of this little drama had most probably taken place on a boat, so they wouldn't find any clues unless they could find the boat.

With the masses of small and bigger boats, yachts and ships that busied themselves around the Cornish Coast in summer, it would be a _challenge_ to track down the right one. Especially if you had no clue about the kind of person you were looking for.

Louisa addressed her worries about Martin's personal papers and the mobile. The officer agreed with her, and assured that they would check if anyone had misused his accounts so far. They would make sure that no one could actually profit from them, but preferred it if they seemed to be valid for a while, in case someone would try to use them. That might shed some light.

The officer suggested to contact some support group for victims of abduction, and that he would be happy to give contact details, also for counsellors with experience in that field. Louisa took the contact data, just in case, but was pretty sure that Martin would never – not in a million years – use them.

Louisa was questioned about Martin's enemies, but she honestly could think of none. Sure, he had managed to annoy almost everyone in Portwenn, but you didn't kidnap and hurt someone badly just because the practising doctor lacked compassion.

The maybe inevitable next question made Louisa laugh out loud – no, Martin being involved in a love triangle and a plot thick with jealousy was simply unimaginable. She would be glad if Martin would manage _love_ in any way, but him playing that game twice at the same time would stretch his skills considerably.

They agreed, that Ellingham would be informed about his credit card company and his telephone provider, so that a replacement for the lost accounts could be arranged. Otherwise there was nothing more to gain, and with the mutual assurance that either side would inform the other party in case of new developments, they rang off.

Before returning the last call, Louisa decided that she would inform Joan that she wouldn't go to Plymouth today and that today, she would cook supper for both of them, to make up for the last few nights when Joan had taken care of her food.

Joan accepted the invitation gladly and could see that a visit every night really might be too exhausting – for both parties. Nevertheless, they could update each other about the progress they had made with their own special project, to get Martin back on track.

Louisa sighed. There was one more call to make. When she returned the call, an eager male voice immediately asked her.

"Miss Glasson, I've heard you've taken care of Mart's affairs? How is he?"

"First, who is talking?"

"Oh, sorry – completely forgot. Chris, Chris Parsons, head of the PCT and in a way Mart's boss, even when he hates to see it that way. I was informed by the hospital that he turned up there. I applied for insight in his case, and you know how that works – you studied with someone who knows someone, who married the sister of someone who goes fishing with the guy in charge, and in the end, you get the information you need. Mart never understood how these ways worked. But then, he didn't have to – he is bloody brilliant. Or do I have to say _was_ bloody brilliant?"

"Oh, sure Mr. Parsons. We met at Martin's interview."

"When you gave him a hard time. Can't say that I'm sorry to hear you're fighting on his side now. But how is he?"

"I'm really sorry, but Martin's always regarded patient's confidentiality very highly, and it doesn't seem right to breach it when he's the patient."

"Very noble. I see that Mart's high morals have rubbed off on you. However, right now they are a bit in the way. See, I have to find out if I have to post the job as GP in Portwenn, or if there is even the tiniest chance to get Mart back, sooner or later. If I'm honest with you – I'd prefer the latter. Even with all the complaints I get about him, I'm glad to have him in my district. By far the best diagnostician I've ever met. And I'd rather have healthy but unhappy patients, than ones over the moon about their Doc but happily rotting away."

"I see. You put me in a difficult position. I'm the only one at the moment Martin is trusting in. I think I'm not giving too much away in saying that his mental state is quite fragile. I don't want to imagine what might happen to him if he feels that I cheated him."

"I quite understand. You see, I'm not only his boss, I also studied with him. He's difficult to get to, at the best of times, but with time you find out he's worth the effort. But you also find out that he never trusts you and just waits to be deceived. Does it help when I tell you that I've read his record and know that it says _amnesia_ in there? Of course I'm worried that this could mean that I have to replace him. But then again, I don't want to be too hasty. Mart would take that very hard."

"I'm very grateful that you obviously want to help. I appreciate that. I really do. But I hope you'll understand that I won't do anything without talking with Martin first. I hope I'll have him on the phone later, so I will tell him, I promise. Then he can think about it until tomorrow. I hope that's OK for you?"

"Sure. Who could be sore at someone who cares so deeply about an old mate? But please inform me as soon as you can."

"Uhm, just in case – would it be possible that you could come down to Plymouth at some point, so that you can talk it over with him personally, and get your own impression?"

"I might have some time on Friday. Do you think he'd be up to it?"

"It's worth a try. Besides, it'll give him the feeling of taking up responsibility for his life."

"I'll see what I can do. Have to sort it out with my lovely lass at home. Do I hear from you tomorrow?"

"Might be rather late, though."

"Any time. Hope we'll get him back where he belongs – Portwenn surgery."

_If only_, Louisa thought after they had rung off. But at least she now had two allies on her side.

_To be continued…_


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

A quick glance at the watch revealed that it was high time to prepare dinner. So Louisa busied herself preparing fish, vegetables and potatoes. She owed Joan a decent meal, after all she'd done for her lately.

While the fish was cooking in the oven and Louisa was chopping the vegetables, her mobile rang again. Still trying to do some tasks, she took it with one hand, while muddling around with the other.

"Yeah?"

"Miss Glasson? Louisa?"

"Oh hello Martin. How are you?"

"A bit tired. Physio is far more exhausting than I thought. After all, I didn't even move myself, really, but the muscles _were_ moved to strengthen them. It seems, even that is a bit too much for me right now."

"When they want to restore your muscles, they have to start slowly. Don't be impatient."

"I feel so … "

"So what?"

_Bloody useless, _was on Martin's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. "Tired." He said instead. "That's why I asked them to inform you that you needn't come. After physio, I slept until the meal, and I'm tired again already."

"You're sure that's the only reason why I shouldn't come?"

"What else?"

"What I said yesterday?"

"No. Quite alright. Actually…"

"Yes?"

"I started to read the journals that were in the bag you brought me."

"The ones from your bedside table."

"How would I know?"

"Must be the ones. Did you like them?"

"Yes. Very interesting. An article to use small gas molecules, which naturally act as transmitters, to slow down metabolism to gain time in case of needed transplants or with heart attacks. Seems to be an interesting new approach to…"

"BUGGER!"

"It's OK, I understand. You're not interested. No reason to…"

"No, Martin! Not you, but I'm trying to prepare dinner while holding the mobile and now the potatoes are scattered all over the kitchen floor."

"Oh. Maybe I better ring off. I'm consuming too much of your time."

"Please stop! Nothing like that. I'm glad to hear from you."

"But if you're cooking your meal…"

"Not just for me. Joan is coming over. I thought, as I don't have to drive to Plymouth today, I can repay her for the meals she had brought around the last days."

"Right, I see. So maybe I really better…"

"You really better tell me what I should tell the villagers. People have started to notice that I'm out of the village quite often and someone, I guess I know who, saw Joan and I coming out of your cottage. Hearing the gossip, Penhale couldn't help but mention that we might be in for a little surprise. So I'd say if we want to have any control at all about the news of your reappearance, we should act quickly."

"I don't want anyone to know what happened. It's nobody's business. As long as we don't know who's behind it, we can't be sure that whoever did this isn't from the village and he might decide to finish me off for good. Besides, I can do very well without people running around here."

"I can't keep pretending you're still gone. People get curious and it wouldn't be fair to let them worry about you any longer. I have to tell them _something_."

"Let's keep it vague then. Nothing about my whereabouts and nothing about my condition."

"That leaves pretty much any information out. Any suggestions what I _can_ say."

"Uuhm…Maybe that there had been an incident, but that I'm in hospital now to recover."

"Wow, that would certainly leave us in control over what is said in the village."

"Good."

"No, I mean…that just fires everyone imagination and rumours will go into every possible direction. They will find out about your amnesia when you turn up in Portwenn anyway, so why be cagey about it? It's nothing you have to be ashamed of?"

"YOU WILL NOT TELL THEM!"

Louisa was puzzled. He hadn't yelled at her since he was back. "OK, your choice."

She could hear a relieved sigh at the other end.

"Speaking of choice, I have another thing for you to think about."

Martin groaned into the speaker.

"See, I had a call today from the head of the PCT in this district, your boss, so to speak."

"You didn't tell him…?"

"I didn't have to. He called me, because he had been informed that you had turned up and that I'm the contact person."

Martin quickly pleaded over the phone. "Don't tell him about my…"

"…amnesia?" Louisa finished the question quietly for him. "Didn't have to. He has seen your case report."

"Gawd!"

"Don't be upset. You know, you also studied with him and he has a high regard for you. He just called to find out if he can count on you in the future. I promised him to ask you what I should tell him about your state, or maybe he can come down to assess the situation for himself?"

"No! I can't see anyone like this! I'm not in a state to… I mean…"

"Martin, if we can't convince Chris Parsons – that's his name – that you'll be fit to practise in the foreseeable future, he has to replace you as our GP. We both don't want that, do we? And you don't give the impression of being able when you're hiding away."

"You mean at the moment I still have my job, but he decides if I'm going to lose that as well?"

"In a way, yes…"

Right now, there was a knock at the door. A look at the clock revealed, that Joan was slightly overdue. At the same time Louisa noticed a smell from the cooker, indicating that the fish might be just a tiny bit overcooked. Some vegetables, however, still waited to be chopped and most of the potatoes still lay scattered around.

"Martin, I'm really sorry, but I have to ring off. Think about what Chris said and you'd better come up with a better statement than for the village." While talking she had switched off the cooker and opened its door, to draw the tray halfway out. Towards the front door she shouted "_Coming!"_ While finishing her call with Martin. "He's on our side and we do need him as our ally. So be at your best. See you tomorrow!"

When Joan came in, she noticed the chaos in the kitchen, but together they had sorted it out in no time and were able to save enough, to have a decent meal.

Louisa just realised, that she had got herself into quite a commitment, and that many stressful weeks – maybe months – lay ahead of her.

_To be continued…_


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

On Tuesday, Louisa arranged to stop at school earlier than usual and immediately after school drove down to Plymouth. She went into Martin's room.

"Hello! How are you today?" She asked cheerfully, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Fine."

But by the look of him and the sound of his voice she could tell that all was not well. She looked at him closely.

"You look tired. Didn't you sleep well?"

"As well as you can expect."

"I take that as a _no_."

Louisa sat down next to him. "So what's the problem? Is the bed not comfortable? Or did they serve dinner too late?" She smiled by herself. He wouldn't remember her remark of his carbohydrate curfew, but she was sure that eating late would have the same effect on him as ever.

"Dinner's served sixish. That's quite fine for me, and I suppose I shouldn't really complain about my bed and room. I saw some of the normal rooms and know now that I'm quite lucky."

"Not just luck, but also well insured, I'd say. Sometimes it pays off if you put your security first."

"Right. You're always wiser afterwards."

"No, Martin. That was not what I meant. I simply meant that you invested your money wisely in paying for a good health insurance, that's all."

"I should have been more careful otherwise and I wouldn't have needed the bloody insurance."

"You thought you were called out to an emergency. There was no way that anyone could have suspected…whatever happened." Louisa assured him, gently stroking his cheek.

"Yeah, whatever. If I just knew _what_ exactly happened. It would make things so much easier."

"I imagine. It must be galling not to know." She noticed how he looked away, swallowing hard. She wasn't sure, but she thought there was fear in his eyes. That's when she suspected something, so she tried a shot in the dark. "Can't you sleep because you're scared? Afraid something might happen to you if you don't watch out?"

He gulped, and she was sure, even when he was looking into the opposite direction, that tears were welling up in his eyes. A shaky voice brushed her theory aside. "Don't be silly. It's a hospital, I know I'm perfectly safe here."

"Yes, but _knowing_ you're safe and _feeling _safe are quite different things, aren't they?"

"Nonsense. There's no good reason to worry."

"Martin, look at me." He kept staring into the opposite direction, completely tense now. She brought his hand under his chin and forced his face into her direction.

"Look at me! Look into my eyes and tell me that you are not afraid when you're alone at night."

He gulped, but stubbornly refused to admit anything. However, his eyes gave him away.

"Whatever you've been through must have been horrible. As you were tied down it's perfectly possible that you felt you had to be on watch 24 hours a day. Your body might be used to it by now, even when you're brain doesn't remember. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It would be perfectly normal to be scared, even when you're in your hospital bed."

Now he couldn't compose himself any longer. His lower lip was quivering when he spoke under tears. "It's so silly. I'm such a wimp. Imagine, a grown-up, tall and strong man like me trembling and hiding away in the dark. Whenever I close my eyes, I'm sure something dreadful will happen. I listen to every sound, not knowing what I'm expecting – or fearing – to hear. When I doze off, I wake up immediately with a start. My heart's pounding, pulse racing and I'm so frightened, I could scream. I almost rang for the nurse one night, although absolutely nothing had happened. The worst thing is that I don't even know what I'm afraid of."

Martin was crying by now, still looking into Louisa's eyes. He didn't quite understand why, but looking into these eyes was unbelievably comforting. She gently placed her hand at the back of his head and drew his head against her shoulder. She could feel him crying into her neck. She stroked his head and lowly assured him that it was alright. They sat there for quite a while until Martin had composed himself a bit. Suddenly he broke apart, brushing his tears aside. He cleared his throat.

"I'm so sorry. You didn't come all this way just for me to act foolishly"

"Don't be silly, Martin. I told you, it's OK."

"No, it isn't. I have to start to pull myself together. I can't go on like this."

"You should be patient with yourself. You need a lot of support for all of your wounds to heal, _especially_ the ones you cannot see. I was just thinking. What if you try to sleep now? I'm here at your bed. If you like, I can hold your hand, so that you know that you're not alone. Maybe that'll help you sleep."

"Great. You certainly didn't drive for 50 miles just to watch me sleeping."

"Don't worry about that. That's fine with me."

"It's not for me. It wouldn't be fair to you." He said softly, but Louisa could see that his defences were tumbling down.

"Don't worry about me. I have some grammar tests with me which I have to mark. I can do that while I'm here. Don't you think it's worth a try to see if you can actually sleep better when you don't feel so alone?"

"You're sure you don't mind?" She put her hands against his shoulders and pushed him back onto the cushions. Then she pulled the blanket up and placed a light kiss on his forehead. "And now sleep. I'm here, so you are perfectly safe. I'll take care of that." She sat down, taking his hand into her left, and with her right hand she got the grammar tests out. In a way she was glad, otherwise she would have done it in the evening, and that would have been really tiresome.

First his grip on her hand was quite strong, but with time proceeding and him dozing off the grip loosened until his hand was merely lying in hers. Louisa could tell by his breathing that he was soundly asleep now. She looked over at him and he seemed to be reasonably peaceful. With a smile she turned towards her marking again.

After about half an hour he started to stir. He whimpered, in his sleep he exclaimed "No…Don't…_PLEASE…._" and tried to pull his arm free from the sling. Louisa bent over him, gently stroking his cheek she whispered: "It's OK, Martin. You're safe. You're with me. It's me, Louisa. Relax. Everything's fine." She kissed his forehead and stroked his shoulder reassuringly. Without really waking up, Martin's face was more peaceful. Mumbling "Louisa, stay with me."

"Sure Martin. I'm right at your side. See, I have your hand in mine. Concentrate on that. You're safe."

"Safe." sighed the echo. Martin's head settled into the cushions again and by his breathing Louisa could tell that he was drifting off again.

Louisa turned her attention to the test again. It was a bit awkward to do the marking while her left hand was firmly held by the sleeping patient, but that was indeed a very small price to pay for having Martin back.

From time to time, especially when she almost cringed by some mistakes made by her lovely pupils, she looked down to see Martin sleeping peacefully. Sometimes he would stir and then she could feel how he tightened his grip, almost crushing her hands at times. She bit her lip and said nothing, even when it considerably hurt at times. She knew he had to feel her to fight the unpleasant memories, which couldn't reach his conscience, but were subconsciously tormenting him.

It was shortly after such a moment, when he had clung to her hand as if his life depended on it and his hand was starting to relax, that she started to rub her hands gently over his hand. Without noticing it, she had touched the wound at his wrist where the ropes had cut into his flesh. With a startle Martin woke up, sitting upright in his bed, screaming out.

Immediately Louisa was by his side, putting her arms around his shoulder.

"I'm sooo sorry, Martin. I wasn't careful enough. It was my fault. Nothing has happened. You're safe. I just foolishly touched your wrist."

"Louisa?"

"Ssshhhh Martin, relax." She pushed him down onto the bed. "I'll be more careful now, I promise. Just go to sleep."

He relaxed visibly. A bit drowsy he uttered. "It's just not fair. I'm sleeping here and you've come all the way…" He was stopped by Louisa's finger touching his lips.

"Ssshh, no more. It's fine. It really is. Don't worry about me. And now sleep."

Martin was only too happy to comply. He really was tired and Louisa had been right to suggest that he might sleep better in her company. Soon he dozed off again.

Louisa had almost finished her marking. Martin had almost had three hours of sleep, only interrupted a few times. However, he regularly started to stir, but Louisa could always calm him down by talking to him quietly and stroking his cheek or shoulder. She didn't make the mistake again of touching his wrists.

Suddenly the door opened and one of the nurses came in. Louisa gestured towards her to be quiet, pointing towards the sleeping patient. Thankfully, the nurse approached quietly.

"So you could make him sleep?" She whispered towards Louisa. "I'm so glad, because he's grown more and more tired, but couldn't be persuaded to take any sleeping pills. At the same time, natural sleep didn't seem to come easily to him either."

"He's sleeping fine now. That's why I don't want to wake him. Do you have to?"

"No, it's not important. Time for cake and tea, but I can leave it here for whenever he likes. Sleep's more important now." Noticing their hands clutched together the nurse asked Louisa with a smile: "Do you still have any feeling in your hand at all?" Nodding towards the bed, where Martin just held Louisa's hand firmly.

"That's quite alright. It seems to soothe him."

"He's very lucky to have you."

With loving eyes she looked towards Martin. "I'm quite lucky to have him back myself."

The nurse rested her hand on Louisa's shoulder.

"Must have been awful not to know anything about him."

"It was the worst time in my entire life. The worst thing was that I felt so utterly useless. I knew he needed help and there was absolutely nothing that I could do. So I'm quite glad to help him now with whatever he needs."

"So how long have you been together?"

"We are not – together – yet." Louisa stammered.

"Oh! Sorry. My mistake. You mostly find such devotion with couples who have been together for quite some time and can't imagine their lives without the partner anymore."

"Strangely enough, we could never really get the relationship started, but when I thought…" Louisa gulped, her eyes glistening a bit "…you know…." The nurse nodded. No need to speak out loud the unspeakable. "…I realised what a huge part of my life he had become. How empty it was without him. I'm really glad we got a second chance."

"I'm sure you'll have a bright future ahead. Tragedies like that can form bonds that are stronger than the usual relationships. Either that, or they tear it apart. Can I bring you something, dear? Some biscuits, a piece of cake, some tea?"

"Tea and biscuits would be great, thanks very much."

"It's a pleasure. You don't know how much you make our work easier."

Louisa quietly had her afternoon tea, looking towards Martin who was finally sleeping soundly. He hardly stirred anymore, only the pressure on Louisa's hand varied.

The afternoon passed by quietly. Louisa was glad that Martin could catch up with his sleep. At six, however, the nurse returned and told Louisa that unfortunately she had to wake him, as it was time for dinner and his medicine. Louisa told her, that she would rather wake him herself, so that he could feel at home. She gently started to talk to him, telling him to wake up, slowly raising her voice. She shook him gently and finally he opened his eyes.

"Louisa? You're still here?"

"I promised you. I never left your side for a second. How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Definitely better."

"I'm sorry to wake you, but it's time for your medicine and your dinner." Only now Martin noticed the nurse.

"Oh."

"I'll stay with you until you've finished your meal. Then I have to go, I'm afraid. Is that OK?"

"Sure, thanks for staying so long anyway." Towards the nurse he said in a harsher tone. "Let's see how you try to poison the patients today?"

The nurse took it lightly, obviously thinking he was joking. She didn't know that Martin didn't joke.

"Well, if I would find the right poison for you, I'd certainly be glad to give it to you. My attempts so far failed miserably."

"It just doesn't show." Martin replied grumpily.

Louisa was a bit shocked about his unkind behaviour. Although he had forgotten everything else, he obviously hadn't forgotten his bad bedside manners. However, she had to admit that the hospital food didn't look – or smell – too inviting.

Louisa kept Martin company during the meal, chatting a bit, telling him about the village and the most stupid mistakes she had to endure during the marking.

After dinner, she said goodbye, kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good night. Then she drove home.

While she was half way to Portwenn, her mobile rang.

"Louisa?"

"Ah, Joan."

"How's Marty?"

"Fine, so far."

"Did you have anything to eat?"

"Nope, just some dry biscuits at the hospital."

"I have some steak and kidney pie left over. Shall I bring it to you and you can fill me in."

"Great. I should be home in about half an hour. See you."

"Bye."

_To be continued…_


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The visit might have provided Martin with a good deal of sleep, but left Louisa as clueless as before about what to say to Chris Parsons. As Martin had been in an even worse mental state than before, she had decided against tackling any serious topics. However, she had promised to call the head of the PCT back.

So the safest bet would be to gain some time. Martin wasn't probably up to doing anything to secure his job right now.

So Louisa informed Chris Parsons that Martin still had to recover first before any plans for his future could be discussed. Martin's old mate was quite understanding, but insisted on being informed about the developments by the end of the week. After all, he just wanted to help, he pointed out.

So the week went by. Louisa made her trips to Plymouth every day. Even when Martin insisted she should take time off, she felt obliged to give him some _personal_ care. Even when he got the best professional care possible, it simply was something different when he had contact with someone who actually knew him.

Martin had asked for medical literature, especially ones suitable to find out how much of his professional training was still there and how much he had forgotten.

Dr. Fellows had arranged to organize some test exams of different training years. Besides, a small library of the most recent developments and publications piled up in Martin's room. He also had asked for paper and pen.

Every morning before physio he would get his teeth into his studies. He was found by the nurses scribbling, making cross-references and filling in the test exams.

Then he would be wheeled to have physio for some time.

After lunch, he was pretty exhausted, so he tried to rest. However, he still was only just able to doze off when he was completely worn out. Otherwise, the feeling of fear took over, even though it wasn't as bad during the day as it was at night.

He had put one of the writing pads away where he had noted every situation of when he had started to panic, write down his dreams, or rather his emotions while sleeping, as he hardly could remember anything but the fear. He hid it away carefully, as he didn't want anyone to know about it.

He still had refused any psychological treatment and the hospital could hardly make him talk about everything that was going on in his head, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this by himself. So he started to catalogue everything that seemed of any importance or significance, or just struck him as odd. However, so far he couldn't make head or tail of it.

If he couldn't get any rest, he would study until Louisa came. She had become a permanent fixture, just like his afternoon tea. When Louisa noted that Martin was exhausted, she would encourage him to sleep while she was there. While she was guarding his sleep, he always could get some rest.

Louisa had informed the village that Martin Ellingham had been found injured and was now recovering in a hospital. It was still difficult to estimate a possible date when he would be fit for resuming his duties.

Louisa was not at all happy with this announcement, but considering Martin's wishes, it was about the only thing she could say.

Pauline rushed towards her and after giggling a bit and expressing her relief about the Doc being back, she was eager to know if she could consider her as still employed, and if it was for sure he would re-open the surgery.

Louisa tried to be as vague as possible, but also expressed her hopes that he would re-open surgery eventually.

Al and Roger were quite glad to hear that Dr. Ellingham had re-appeared but where anxious to know where. They still felt guilty for calling the search off with so few results. Louisa reassured them that Martin had appeared so far away that no one could possibly have searched the whole area between here and there with any search party – no matter how many people were available to search. She didn't make any statements more specific than that.

Penhale pestered everyone in pointing out that he had told them, they would be in for a surprise. The Doc…yes, the Doc could take care of himself. No need to worry about him.

In a way, this situation was even worse than after the party to call the official search off not too long ago. Then, everyone tried to be considerate and didn't want to upset Louisa, so they didn't show too much curiosity.

Now it was different. Louisa had a juicy piece of gossip, and everyone wanted to participate. The situation was becoming quite stressful, especially as she was not allowed to speak openly.

However, she was now able to tighten her schedule in school a bit to allow her to stop earlier each afternoon to drive over to Plymouth.

When Louisa came into Martin's room, she mostly found him deep in studies. In a way, he was doing what she had encouraged him to do – concentrate on the future and plan to get back to the job. But as it was often the case with Martin – what he did, he did to the extreme and neglected everything else. At least that's what Louisa thought.

She didn't know that he kept his own records on his memory and mental state, so she assumed he was neglecting this part of his recovery completely. And she was right to a certain extent. Martin rejected any professional help in this field.

His physical healing process was therefore far more advanced. By the end of the week, Martin was able to master most ways within the hospital on his own two feet and he was back on solid food only. It was promising to see one tube after the other vanish from Martin's bedside.

With Martin making progress, Louisa felt obliged to tackle one particularly serious subject once more. She had to talk to Martin about the post of GP in Portwenn and how to persuade Chris not to re-fill it. So Friday afternoon, she took a deep breath.

"Martin, I promised to call Chris Parsons at the end of this week, so tomorrow latest I have to contact him."

"About what?"

"You know, your progress – and when he can discuss things with you find out if you'll be fit for your job in the foreseeable future."

"I can't see him like this?"

"Like what, exactly? We can't wait for your amnesia to disappear. He has to make plans. He's responsible for the medical care in our district."

"But I look a mess. I can hardly stand on my own two feet, I look like a slob and I can't dress properly. What kind of impression will he get?"

"I hardly think he's interested in your looks, and he knows that you have been injured and that you are still receiving treatment. He would expect someone dressed fit for a hospital, not for a consulting room. Besides, you look far from being a slob. You're not your impeccably groomed self, that's true, but that doesn't make you look like a slob. There is a good reason why you can't shave, yet."

"I really would prefer to meet him in a decent way – after having shaved, in a proper suit and with a decent haircut. I look down-and-out."

Louisa couldn't help but run her hand through his hair. "It's not that bad, actually."

"I couldn't bear for anyone to see me like this. Bad enough that you have seen me in such a state, but as it couldn't be helped to start with, it doesn't make much sense to try to shy away now."

"So you don't want to see anyone right now? Joan hoped she could come with me on the weekend. She can't wait to finally see you."

"Please, Louisa. Dr. Fellows said if everything goes well, I might be allowed to shave mid next week. She has waited for so long, maybe these few days more wouldn't do too much harm?"

"She'll understand. But what about Chris?"

"I hadn't thought about it properly about what I could tell him. I have to come up with some good answers first."

"How long do you think you'll need?"

Martin bit his lip nervously.

"A bit more time…" He finally uttered.

"Are you sure that you don't need help coming to a decision?"

"I hardly think they want t a GP who needs someone else to make the decisions for him."

"I hardly think they want a GP who stubbornly refuses advice when he clearly needs some, making decisions which are not founded on good knowledge."

"I have to start to make decisions at some point."

"Maybe you shouldn't start with the most difficult ones without talking it over with someone. Allow yourself to learn those things again."

"I'm not three years old!"

"No, but you're in a difficult position and I really think you shouldn't do it all on your own."

"I can hardly ask Mr. Parsons to help!"

"No, but you're in a hospital. What better place to get advice about a medical profession. Regard it as part of your treatment and talk it over with Dr. Fellows."

"If you'd like me to, I can come with you and the three of us can discuss this. That'll give you an idea what to tell Chris when you finally feel fit to meet him. Besides, I reckon you're really busy brushing up your knowledge. So maybe you can prove to Chris that you're up to the challenge."

"It's hardly Dr. Fellows' job to care for my career."

"But it is his job to provide the best care for you, and that includes giving you a future to look forward to. We can at least ask him. That wouldn't hurt."

Martin went silent for quite some time. He had thought about what to tell his boss for the last few days, and if he was honest, he didn't have the slightest clue. He didn't know what was expected of him.

His physical state would give him a good excuse not to see Parsons for about half a week, but then… He had to come up with a solution. He knew he was still pretty knowledgeable about his trade. He had completed test exams up to the stage of Bachelors, and would have passed every exam so far. But being a doctor meant more than just knowing your facts. There was a practical side attached to it, and he had no clue if he remembered that as well. He also didn't know how to find out. And he didn't know how soon Parsons would expect him to be back ready for duty – nor how soon it would be possible at all.

Maybe Louisa was right. Maybe he needed help for this decision. Maybe asking Dr. Fellows wouldn't be the worst idea.

Reluctantly he agreed that Louisa should ask Dr. Fellows if he was prepared to discuss future professional possibilities with Martin.

_To be continued…_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Louisa never realised before what a big shot Martin had been before becoming GP of Portwenn before talking to Dr. Fellows. He was still excited that he was treating "the Great Ellingham". His adoration for his formerly extraordinarily skilled peer also meant that he was more than willing to go the extra mile to provide optimal care and the best possible outlook for his illustrious patient.

When Louisa addressed him about a chat between the three of them regarding Martin's job options, Dr. Fellows was more than happy to help. After consulting his schedule, he offered some time on Monday afternoon. Louisa was not happy about that, as it meant that she had to juggle a bit to squeeze this date in. Nevertheless, she would make it somehow.

That weekend, Louisa was able to spend a bit more time with Martin. Joan had been extremely disappointed to learn that medically, he was allowed to receive other visitors, but wasn't willing to because he didn't feel he looked _presentable_.

"That stupid boy! I have changed his nappies, I have fixed several cuts and wounds when he has been visiting us and even as an eleven year old I've seen him with his pants down. I guess there is no need to hide anything from me."

Louisa had to agree that there was some truth in it, but she also had to accept Martin's wishes.

When Louisa was visiting Martin that weekend, they were even able to sit together in the canteen, as Martin was already fit enough to walk within the hospital. It seemed that his physical progress was very good, which made the necessity to organize his life outside the hospital even more paramount. However, she had to wait until Monday to tackle this.

Monday morning came, and Louisa had to re-arrange her schedule at school again. If any of her colleagues disapproved, then no one was saying anything. However, Louisa knew that she had to stop taking time off soon, otherwise she would be in trouble, but today it was important to get Martin's future planned.

Arriving at the hospital, she was informed that Dr. Fellows was waiting for her in his office. Dr. Ellingham would be there, too.

In Dr. Fellows' office there was a small round table. When Louisa entered she found Martin and his treating doctor already seated around it. Louisa joined them.

"Well, Dr. Ellingham," Dr. Fellows started "you know what this meeting is all about. In the course of our discussion, your medical situation might come up. Therefore I would like to confirm with you that it will be alright to discuss these matters in front of Miss Glasson. Especially as she is no relative of yours or…partner…I have to make sure that I can talk freely, without breaching your patient's confidentiality."

"I know that, and I guess we have wasted enough of your time. So let's get on with it."

"OK, let's talk business, then. I think before we can make plans for the future, we have to assess what we've got."

"Loads of problems." grumbled Martin. Louisa nudged him with her elbow to make him stop.

"OK, Dr. Ellingham. Then we have to assess and define the problems more precisely."

"You know darn well what my problem is! I can't see that you have managed to do much about it. At least I can't see any progress. Can you?"

"To be honest, Dr. Ellingham, with regard to your memory loss we can't see any progress either. We can just assure you that there is no physiological explanation for it."

"That helps a lot." Sneered Martin.

"We have done the scans, and we can't find any lesions or damage in your brain, the blood flow is normal, so there is no medical reason why you don't seem to be able to remember."

"Great, but maybe I'm just imagining things, but don't we have a little problem, nevertheless?"

"As you well know, psychological disorders can have a great variety of causes. The only problems we can safely assess with our means of examination are physiological ones. We can exclude that. Therefore, we can't possibly say why you're suffering from amnesia, or for how long it will go on. I've talked with the neurologist, and he thinks it might even be possible that the recent events have just triggered the amnesia, but that the true reason lies further in the past. Is there any traumatic event you have suffered from before?"

"I certainly don't know." Grumbled Martin.

"I know, that's why I didn't ask you during your examination, but while Miss Glasson is around. Maybe she can help?"

"I…don't know. Not that I know of. Like what, for example?"

"For example, has he ever had any military jobs, has he attended medical care during a catastrophe or a major accident with several victims. Something that provides more stress, more victims, more distress than regular duties."

"I'm pretty certain he hasn't. Or does coping with haemophobia count as heightened distress?"

Martin shot her a look that could kill.

"Haemophobia? That's interesting. We didn't know about that. When was it and how did it develop?"

Louisa told the story the way Martin had explained it to her when they had been in the ambulance with Peter Cronk. Louisa was aware that Martin didn't like her telling it. Obviously he had tried to keep it from his treating doctor. She realised that he might think that she was misusing his confidentiality, but Dr. Fellows was his treating doctor and when there was just a tiny chance that this might help to get over the blasted amnesia, then she would tell everything. As a GP Martin was the first to complain when patients kept information from him. So she just acted according to Martin's own rules.

Looking into his direction, she could tell that he had an entirely different view.

"That's interesting." Repeated Dr. Fellows when Louisa had finished. "Anxiety disorders are often caused by traumatic experiences that haven't been worked through properly. It appears that the operation itself just triggered the haemophobia, but as it seems to have been a standard procedure without any complications, it's hardly the reason."

"Miss Glasson, do you have _any_ idea if there is something in Dr. Ellingham's past that explains it? And the incident can date back to any time, even back to childhood."

"I really don't know. Martin never talked about his past."

"Never? As I understood you two had dates, dining together, this sort of thing. You must have talked about something?"

"Well, to be honest, I did most of the talking." Louisa looked shyly towards Martin, who seemed to be definitely fed up by now. "Martin always was a bit…_monosyllabic_?"

"I see. Obviously he didn't like to talk about his youth. Might be a clue."

Martin lost his patience. "Sorry, but I can't see that this is leading anywhere. You can't imply that I have amnesia now because I had…I…had a problem with…blood!"

"It might have the same underlying reason, yes, Dr. Ellingham, I think it's a strong possibility."

"Bollocks." Grumbled Martin.

Dr. Fellows leaned forwards. "And I might add that we might never know if you keep refusing psychological treatment."

Martin looked away as Louisa turned towards him. "Oh no, Martin! You promised me to think about it."

"I _did_ think about it – and decided against it."

Dr. Fellows gave Louisa a wry smile, who just shrugged her shoulders. Then she decided to defuse the situation in shifting the subject of their conversation from the past to the future. So she addressed Dr. Fellows.

"Well, as far as I understand you, there is no possible way to predict how long the amnesia will last. So I think it's the safest bet to start planning your future…" she looked over to Martin "…assuming that your condition does not get better."

"Dr. Fellows, the point is that Chris Parsons, the head of PCT in our district, needs to know when – or if – Martin will be able to resume his duties as our GP."

"Dr. Parsons does want to get Martin back and is prepared to organise an interim solution, as long as there is hope that Martin will be fit for duty in the foreseeable future. And he needs the information soon, as he has to make plans."

"That's a bit tricky." Dr. Fellows replied. "I mean, Dr. Ellingham has read a lot during the last week, and as far as I understand and from what I've seen, he seems to be knowledgeable enough. The nurses told me that they had seen several test exams in his rooms which he had already assessed and they seemed to be mainly correct, so that he would have passed the exams with ease."

"But scribbling answers into some sheets in your own room or taking an exam are completely different things."

"To be able to resume his duties, he definitely has to take the major exams in medicine at the university…"

"What, study medicine completely anew?" Louisa was shocked.

"Not necessarily. But he has to prove that he still has the knowledge. For the practical side, we have to find a way to train him aside the normal training for young doctors."

"Young doctors." Snarled Martin under his breath.

"Which would be?" Inquired Louisa, ignoring Martin's interjection.

"Normally, a medical student acts as an assistant doctor for a couple of years. This is hardly an option for Dr. Ellingham. I was thinking about re-training programs for doctors who want to practise in England again after maternity leave or a longer stay in non-EU countries. There are also shortened programs for doctors who studied outside the EU or the USA. The UK does not accept the qualification from certain countries automatically."

"We'll have to check to see if any of these programs might be suitable to get Dr. Ellingham back in his job."

"That doesn't sound too bad, does it Martin?" Louisa smiled and turned towards him. "Maybe we can have you back in Portwenn in no time!"

Martin couldn't stand it any longer. All this talk about the future – _his _future. It was unbearable that he couldn't be in control of it at all. What were they thinking to make plans _for _him? Was he up to the options they were discussing?

Suddenly Martin got up. He stared around, shouted: "Who says I want to be back in bloody Portwenn? You can't make me do it!" and stormed out.

Dr. Fellows and Louisa sat flabbergasted around the table, looking at each other.

"Ouch." Louisa found her voice first. "That didn't go down very well."

"I warned you that it might be too soon to involve him. He has no experience whatsoever, combined with a huge knowledge. Not a good combination."

"But can't you see that he _has_ to be involved? It's his life after all. Maybe I just should have taken it more slowly. I was so eager to finally be able to do something for him, that I'd forgotten to consider his pace, a pace he might be comfortable with."

"Maybe you should just go ahead and initiate the one or the other thing so that everything's prepared when he's finally up to it."

"I certainly won't do that. I can't. I respect him too much for that. I can't plan his life against his wish." Sadly Louisa got up. "I suppose there is no need for a round table conference anymore."

Dr. Fellows came over to her and put an arm around her reassuringly. "You really meant well, and I admire your spirit. You're the best help we could have wished for. Not complaining about what is lost but looking forward, trying to build a future with what is there. No high expectations. That's a great help. Don't be discouraged. He needs you."

"I know he does, and don't worry, I'm still more than happy to help. I 'll just have to find a way to consider his needs more."

Louisa went over to the door. "Dr. Fellows?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think he still wants to see me? I would like to say good-bye before I go home."

"Just try it."

"Good-bye. See you tomorrow?"

"I think that would be a good idea."

"Till tomorrow then."

Louisa went to Martin's room. Outside the door she took a deep breath. She told herself that, whatever he would say, she won't get angry or feel insulted. He was in a fragile state and not entirely responsible for his actions. She had to bear that in mind. '_Just what would you do in his place?_' she said to herself, reminding herself how darn difficult it must be for him to be in a completely unknown world. Another deep breath and she knocked. No reply. She knocked again.

"Come in if you must. Everyone's doing what they like anyway. Don't mind me."

Louisa came in. Martin was sitting with his back towards the door in front of the window, staring over the rooftops of Plymouth. Louisa stopped behind Martin's back. He didn't turn around.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I didn't want to patronize you. I just thought I could help you."

"Hhhmmppph."

"I know, I went overboard with all my plans and should have asked you first. It's just – I thought I would never be able to do something for you ever again, and now that you're finally back, I felt so relieved that you do need me. I was just thinking about myself, I suppose."

Martin didn't reply, but by his tense body language she could tell that he was deeply upset and probably close to tears.

"Just one thing, Martin. I…I can understand if you don't want to return to Portwenn. I never thought about it, but it must be…odd…to be somewhere where everyone knows you, but you don't know anyone. I just ask you for one thing – whatever you decide, wherever you like to go from here – try to find a place in your life for me, too. And I don't care if that's in Australia or Alaska. I just don't want to lose you again."

His shoulders indicated that he had indeed started to cry. With breaking voice Martin uttered. "Just go, will you?"

"Sure Martin. I leave you alone, but please think about it. I'll be back tomorrow."

_To be continued…_


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Louisa drove home with a heavy heart. What would the future have in store? She certainly hated the thought of leaving Portwenn, but she hated even more thinking about losing Martin again. She was in a tough situation. Well, she would see what Martin came up with. He just had to compose himself and get a grip on his life again. Then things would be looking up.

Martin kept staring out of the window. What was it about this woman? She got under his skin. He couldn't remember any women except for the hospital staff, but somehow he was sure she was special. Was she really willing to give up everything to follow the fancy of a fruitcake like him?

He realised that for the first time he could remember – which wasn't much, admittedly – he had responsibility. Responsibility for someone else. He was responsible to make the right decision and not ruin someone else's life. It was frightening, but at the same it time felt good. For the first time he didn't feel like he was being treated like a child.

She had placed her future into his hands. And there was more, wasn't there? Yes. Now he knew what else was there. Trust. She trusted him to make the right decision. Unjustified, unconditional trust.

Something crossed his mind. '_'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind'_ Where did that come from? Must be Shakespeare, he thought. Why could he remember such trivia, but nothing that would help him to lead a _normal _life?

But who was the mad, and who the blind? And could he stop being either?

It had been so easy and so satisfying to study the medical literature. It had showed him that he still had a lot of knowledge. Maybe it had also fooled him into believing that he could still be of some use. He had realised during that meeting that being a doctor didn't only mean to know how the human body worked – or why it ceased to work properly sometimes. It also meant dealing with people. He wasn't very confident about this. But did he have any other options than to try to deal with it?

What did he want? Did he have a realistic chance to plan a life on his own? Shouldn't he be grateful that Louisa cared about him? But he felt uncomfortable in letting others take care of _his_ life. He wanted to be in control, but knew that he wasn't able to. That's what really hurt most – being almost 50 years of age and at the same time as helpless as a baby.

After quite some time the door opened.

"Don't mind me. Don't bother to knock. Do whatever you like." Martin grunted.

Dr. Fellows entered and took a chair to sit next to his patient.

"Have you calmed down?"

"I _am _perfectly calm, thank you very much!"

"You certainly didn't look like it at our little meeting."

"_Your_ little meeting, where _you_ could discuss _my_ future. What was I supposed to do? Be eternally grateful for having my life planned without even being asked?"

"What do you want to do?"

Martin went silent. That was just the bloody problem. He had _no_ idea where to start, what he could do, what options he had and how to find out. Deep down he knew that he needed Louisa's help, but being completely at her mercy truly hurt his pride.

As Martin kept silent, Dr. Fellows continued: "You should be grateful, really. She's the best partner you could wish for in this situation. Not once has she complained about your state, not once has she longed for the past. All the time she has looked forward, trying _everything_ to make life easier for you and to find measures to make you more independent as soon as possible."

"She's not desperately hoping for your memory to come back, but is looking for ways to make your life as manageable as possible given the handicap you have."

"Great." Martin muttered.

"I know, it must be awful to suddenly depend on someone, but to be honest, for the time being you wouldn't have a chance on your own. You don't have the experience to care for yourself. You have to learn how to handle your life slowly. To be honest, I would feel far more assured if I knew her to be at your side. Her ideas haven't been bad at all."

Dr. Fellows got up and placed a hand on Martin's shoulder. "Think about it, and – please – show some better behaviour when she visits tomorrow."

Martin couldn't sleep all night, brooding about his future, trying to figure out his options. He had to accept soon that he had no chance whatsoever of being able to plan anything on his own. He simply didn't know where to start.

Louisa came down to Plymouth the next afternoon after school. She felt a lump in her stomach, before she entered Martin's room. Standing in front of it, she breathed in deeply a couple of times, then she knocked. She made sure to wait for Martin's invitation to come in. She had realised the day before that she had to start to wait for him, involve him more in planning his future. He was a proud, independent man and she should have known that he needed to be in control, or at least feel that way. After the second knock, she could hear him shout "Come in." So she entered.

"Hello Martin. How are you today?"

"The shoulder hardly hurts and the bruises are almost gone. Dr. Fellows says from the weekend on I can leave the hospital for some hours."

"Sounds great! Any special place you'd like to go?"

"Show me your village."

"What? Martin, but I thought? Yesterday you said you didn't want to return to Portwenn."

Martin looked down at the floor. "Yesterday I said a great many things. Sorry about that."

"No need to be, really, Martin. You were quite right. I was making plans for you, but didn't ask you what you wanted."

"The problem is, I don't know what I want."

"Maybe you were right. Maybe it would be easier for you to start somewhere where no one can possibly know about your memory loss."

"But wouldn't it be running away? Before I decide against Portwenn, I can have a look at it first."

"You're sure? Please, don't take it the wrong way, but before you come down I suggest you should meet your aunt first and maybe I should tell the village about what happened. As far as we know, that is."

"You think that's necessary, to tell the village?"

"The thing with small villages is, that when they think there is something to gossip about, it's of huge interest to everyone. So if there is something they can find out, they will, and have a ball discussing it. On the other hand, when you tell them frankly, it's soon yesterday's news and no one cares. Besides, I could appeal to their community spirit and then everyone would have an eye on each other. That would make life far easier for you."

"If you think so, tell them."

"Just a suggestion, an idea I had. You can tell me what you think of it. When I gather them to tell them about you, I could ask if they'd agree to have their photograph taken. Then I can sit together with them to write a mini-bio for everyone. On my next visit, we can go over it. You'll have a chance to get familiar with some of the faces in Portwenn, get an idea who is connected in which ways. Maybe it would make you feel more comfortable down there then."

"You think they would do it?"

"Most of them yes, I think so."

"Well, let's try." Louisa leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks, Martin, for trying. You said you're allowed to go out for some hours. How much is _some_?"

"I don't know. As long as I can manage, I suppose."

"Martin, don't take it the wrong way. I really want to have you in Portwenn. But it's one hours drive to get there, and consequently another hour to get back. So you'd have to be out and about for at least two hours without having seen anything or anybody. Are you sure you'd be up to it?"

"But I thought you wanted me to?"

"I'd love to, but not at the cost of your well-being. If you get tired while we're in Portwenn, you'd have to wait for over an hour to be back in hospital."

"So you think it would be better just to go into Plymouth?"

"Sorry, Martin, but I think it's wiser."

"You're right." He looked cautiously towards Louisa. "Eeehhmmm…how well is my aunt?"

"Joan? She's fine. Why do you ask?"

"Would a trip to Plymouth be too strenuous for her?"

"For Joan? Not a bit. So you would finally like to meet her?"

"Maybe we can meet her in town. I hate it that everyone just knows me in hospital. Where do you think we could meet?"

"Maybe a tea room would be a good idea, don't you think?"

"Do you have any suggestion?"

"No, I don't know anything around here. Maybe you can make enquiries, ask the staff or something?"

Martin realised that she wanted him to take up some planning on his own. He wanted to prove to her that he was able to. Surely he would be able to find a good tea room.

"I'll do that."

"Great, Martin." She beamed at him for taking up this task. It was silly, it was simply finding a place to eat, but everyone had to start somewhere. "Joan will be very pleased to hear."

"Good."

"It's settled then?"

"Yes. Saturday we'll go to town."

"And I will inform Portwenn? Are you fine with it?"

"I suppose there is no other way."

"I just have to find a date…"

"Louisa, uuhmm, why don't you take a day off from visiting me. That would give you more time…:"

"No, Martin. I really like to visit you."

"Louisa, as you pointed out before, it's a long drive to get to and fro. You have a job. And you look tired. I'd really prefer if you'd take every other day off."

"But Martin…"

"No, it would make me feel better. I'm starting to feel guilty. I insist."

"If you insist." Louisa replied sadly.

"We can talk on the phone. I promise. But you have to start to think about yourself again. I can't risk your health. As it looks like I might be depending on you for a long time."

_To be continued…_


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Louisa hated to admit that not having to drive down to Plymouth really had its advantage. On Wednesday, she could finish work according to schedule, and then she sat down at home to do some marking.

She was woken by the sound of her mobile. Her head was resting on the exercise books, as she had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. Maybe Martin had been right, she was extremely tired.

She tried to find the blasted mobile, which kept ringing. Finally, she got hold of it.

"Yes?"

"Is that Miss Glasson speaking? Chris Parsons here."

"Oh, Mr. Parsons! Sorry that I haven't called you back, yet."

"No problem. I understand. There must be a lot on your plate right now. How's Mart? Have you spoken with him about my problem?"

"Well," Louisa squirmed a bit. "It's still early stages, and…well…Dr. Fellows and I talked with Martin about it…"

"So when can I see him. I _have_ to sort things out with him."

"As I said…it's still early stages…"

"And he doesn't want to see me."

"No, it's not that. I mean…he wants to prepare himself. He's reading and studying a lot."

"I don't want to give him an exam. I am aware that he isn't fit for duty yet. I just have to sort things out. Quickly. Or I'll have to replace him. I really don't want to be forced to take such a drastic step."

"Mr. Parsons, please, be patient just a bit longer!" Louisa was pleading. She didn't know if Martin could take another blow.

"Alright, I will, but tell him I will come down next Monday. I have to check something at Plymouth University, so I'm down there anyway. And _I will_ check on Mart. Tell him that. I'm not asking, I'm just telling him."

"Right. I will tell him." Louisa was a bit miffed.

"I'm really sorry if I come across as insensitive, Miss Glasson, but I have to take the responsibility for the health service in Portwenn, and the surgery has been closed for two month now. I simply _have_ to do something. And I don't want to do anything hasty. I'm really just trying to help."

"When will you be there on Monday?"

"Depends how long my business at the University takes me."

"It's just, I have to know to…"

"I think there is no need for you to be there."

"But…"

"Honestly, I'd prefer to talk to Mart alone. I won't bite, I promise, but he has to start to handle his affairs alone. Don't you think?"

"I'm not sure if it's not too early for that."

"Don't pamper him. As far as I know Mart, and I know him a bit, the only thing he needs is his work. The sooner he knows what to do and how to work on his career, the better. Trust me."

Louisa had to admit that there was some truth in what he was saying, so reluctantly she agreed.

The next interruption was a knocking on the door the moment Louisa had rung off. Joan was calling by, as she had been just in the village anyhow.

Louisa had told her on the phone the previous evening that on Saturday she could come with her to finally see Martin. Joan was over the moon, and Louisa could swear that this feisty woman had tears in her eyes.

There were lots of plans to be made. Tomorrow, she had to prepare Martin for his boss's visit on Monday, as he was coming whether Martin liked it or not. For Friday, they would give some updated information on Martin to the village. Joan had approved of Louisa's plan to take photos of the villagers, so that Martin could learn about them beforehand.

They prepared an announcement to be put up at the village's message board saying that Friday night news about the Doc would be given at the Crab & Lobster.

Martin also had good news when she visited next day. Dr. Fellows had organised a guest account for the online-services and courses of the university. So he could start university activities. Dr. Fellows had contacted one of the tutors in Medicine at Plymouth University and had told him the story. Of course, he had also heard of the 'Great Ellingham' before, and could only agree that it was a shame that such a brilliant mind and talented doctor was first cursed with haemophobia and to top it all afterwards with amnesia. He was willing to keep an eye on Ellingham, making sure he could regain his ability to practise as soon as possible.

Martin had been provided with a laptop and internet access. He had been provided with a student email account. Every day his tutor would send him a little description of some symptoms. Then Martin would either try a diagnosis or ask, if a certain test had been performed and, in case it had been, what the results were.

Martin found there was still room for improvement, but it gave him a strange sense of satisfaction and a quiet feeling of contentedness when he got the answers right.

To improve his diagnostic skills further, he started to spend more time in the canteen. What better place to see a huge variety of different diseases than in a hospital canteen? He scanned each person entering in a dressing gown for symptoms. Sometimes a cast was a dead giveaway, but there were enough cases where the hints were more subtle.

On her next visit, Louisa went over with Martin about what she planned to say to the village. Martin cringed at the thought that his state would be a subject of interest to a lot of strangers, but Louisa had a point that they would realise that something was off the moment he came down to Cornwall and they talked to him. So probably it really couldn't be avoided.

Martin was shocked to learn that his boss would be checking in on him on Monday. It was so soon and he felt that he had to make sure that he would not lose his job. It was frightening. He had no idea what Chris Parsons would expect of him. He was also scared that he was going to have to handle the situation alone.

Friday night the pub was packed. Nobody wanted to miss the news about the Doc. Around eight o'clock, Bert came over to Louisa to urge her to spill the beans.

When Louisa uttered "I suppose I should…" Bert immediately raised his voice to quieten everyone down. Very soon you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was on the edge of their seats to hear the latest news about the Doc.

"Well, hello everybody. I…ehhm…the good news is that Dr. Ellingham is making quite good progress in many ways."

The crowd murmured approvingly.

"When he was found, he did have several injuries, some of which are already gone, others are healing quickly. He still is in a weakened state, but his health is improving daily. He is even allowed to leave the hospital for a few hours this weekend."

"So when will he come back?" Someone shouted.

"There will be some time until he can be released from the hospital for good. He has to get used to everything first."

"Get used to what?"

Louisa swallowed, and looked nervously towards Joan. Now she had to let the cat out of the bag.

"Well, there is still one huge problem and it will most probably not be solved in the near future. So, I implore you that, when he can come back, we will all support him."

There was nervous whispering among the villagers. Finally someone asked. "Will he be disabled, or what?"

"Physically he will be completely OK, problem is…" Louisa sighed "…he'll have some memory problems. He has some memory gaps that can't be healed at the moment, it seems."

The crowd gasped. Now she said it, well, almost.

"He's gone Bodmin, eh?"

"He is _completely normal_, he acts completely normal…" some people laughed at that "…and I really ask you to treat him as normal." _Well, not too normal,_ Louisa thought, _he could do without being called tosser._

"It's just that he won't be able to remember what has happened before."

"So he won't open the surgery again?" Pauline asked anxiously.

"It doesn't look too bad. It's quite probable that the surgery will be opened at some point, but – to be honest – that will take a while." Again everyone looked at each other, and annoyed comments about the inconvenience of the commute to the next Doc could be heard.

"He _is_ working hard to be able to open his surgery as soon as possible…"

Louisa was interrupted as someone asked agitatedly: "So he has no clue what to do right now? That doesn't sound good. Shouldn't we get a new GP then?" The crowd started to discuss the matter, and the opinion that a replacement might be an option rather than having a fruitcake who doesn't know what he's doing was voiced frequently.

"Quiet. _QUIET!_ I can assure you, his medical knowledge is as good as it always had been. It's just a formality, that in case of such a…memory problem…the PCT has to make sure that the qualification is still valid." Louisa had to raise her voice again, as the murmur grew. "I can assure you, it is really just a formality! Dr. Ellingham knows his profession as well as ever, and he is already working to get the necessary steps done to get full permission to hold surgery."

"So how long?"

"He has a business meeting with the head of PCT on Monday. They will discuss the next steps. We will see then. But to be honest, it might take some months before everything can be back to normal." The murmuring grew again.

There was one last thing Louisa had to say, so she tried to drown out the murmur once more.

"_One more thing! Quiet please!_ That's better. You showed me so brilliantly over the last weeks that you know what village life is all about, and I trust that this also goes for Dr. Ellingham." Again whispering. "He will need our help to find his place in this community again, and the more we help him, the sooner he can resume his duties. So I appeal to your community spirit to welcome him and make life as easy as possible. Just think what you would do in his situation. He will need our help and I expect that you will give him all the support he'll need."

"For a start, I ask you one thing. He plans to visit the village as soon as he's fit enough to leave the hospital for a whole day. To make it easier for him, I thought it might be a good idea if he can get accustomed to our village beforehand. I thought, I could take some photos – of you and the village. He can have a look at these to trigger his memory and to find his way around here more easily. So, if you agree to have your photograph taken and maybe add a few items of biographical data, please contact me or Joan. We will take the photos to Martin when we visit him next."

"Thanks for your attention!"

Louisa shuffled towards the door, as she needed some time to collect herself. On the way she was stopped by several villagers, who tried to get more information out of her. Somehow, she managed to reach the door.

Outside, she took a deep breath. She looked over the harbour. She had tried to be as vague as possible. Hopefully they would support Martin. Hopefully it wouldn't backfire on him the fact that he had never really appreciated the community before. However, he had helped everyone when they needed him. Hopefully the villagers would remember that.

She could hear the door of the pub open. The sound of the murmuring grew and subsided again, when the door was closed. _Oh no!_ Louisa thought. _Some more of the inquisition._

"Memory gaps." Roger Fenn spoke quietly, while he stood next to her, also looking over the harbour. "There's more to it, isn't there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sounds like amnesia to me. Am I wrong?"

Now the word was said. Louisa sighed.

"Can't be easy for him."

"It wouldn't be easy for anyone."

Roger contemplated quietly for a moment. "True."

Louisa was glad that it was Roger standing next to her. She could stand his quiet inquiry. At least a lot better than if hyperactive Penhale was be pestering her.

"How is he coping?"

"Better now, that he has something to work on, something to do. He's really studying hard."

"So he has forgotten a lot of his profession?"

"No, hardly anything it seems. Just the private memories."

"Did he have some? It always appeared to me he was 99% doctor."

Louisa sighed. "He has forgotten enough to make an impact."

Roger put an arm on her shoulder. "If you need some help, you know where to find me."

Louisa turned her head and smiled. "Thanks."

_To be continued…_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

On the Saturday, Martin was allowed to leave the hospital for a few hours to slowly get used to the '_normal world_' and gather some experience. However, he was not allowed to walk around on his own, but Louisa was of course more than happy to accompany him.

First of all, Martin was not completely steady on his feet, yet. His treating doctor had suggested using a crutch, just in case. Martin had fiercely vetoed this. After all, he was no cripple!

Martin had firm plans for the few hours, but hadn't told Louisa where they would go. He wanted to surprise her and prove to her that he had been able to plan the whole day.

To communicate the meeting point with Joan, he had given Louisa a sealed envelope to hand over to Joan where the address and name of the café was given. He didn't want Louisa help to him planning the trip or finding the way, as he was determined that Louisa shouldn't know anything.

First, Martin wanted to make himself presentable again, so he had enquired about a good barber within easy walking distance of the hospital. Afterwards, he would see his aunt – from his point of view for the first time. He had arranged to meet at a Tea Shop near the Hoe, a big park overlooking the sea, also in easy distance.

Louisa picked Martin up at the hospital. He had already dressed in one of his suits for the first time since he could remember. Dr. Fellows made it again clear that he was not to be left on his own, because first he still was a bit weak physically and second, the _new experience_ might confuse him. Louisa promised not to leave his side and so the two walked off.

In front of the barbershop, Martin stopped. "Look, Louisa. You can't go in there. It's a man's place and I would look silly having a chaperone with me. There is a bistro a few houses up the street. Why don't you wait there, and I'll pick you up."

"Sorry, Martin. I promised Dr. Fellows not to leave your side for a moment. I have to keep my promise."

"But not in there. Nothing can possibly happen. Please."

"You don't need to be ashamed about having company. With your arm in the sling it's pretty obvious that you are not in the best form, so it's not too suspicious having someone with you. I'll just sit in the back and I won't interfere, unless you ask me to."

"Please?"

"Sorry." Louisa pushed the door open to avoid any further discussion.

They had to wait for a few minutes and Martin's discomfort was plain to see. Shyly he looked over to Louisa a couple of times who sat there as in any other waiting room. Basically, it was nothing else.

Martin had seen photos of his in some of the articles of or about him, so he knew what he had to ask for. Louisa watched how the Martin she knew appeared before her eyes. The beard was soon a thing of the past, and Louisa drank in the features that were typically Martin – the slightly too full lips, the astonishingly soft lines of his face. Features she had been afraid never to see again.

Next, the slightly longer locks landed on the floor. Strangely enough, she had always liked Martin's hair, although she never really could tell what the attraction was. She remembered when she had first run her hands over it when he had passed out after the wine. Too soon for her liking, his hair was brutally cropped again.

When the barber asked Martin if it was alright, he searched for Louisa's eyes in the mirror. Louisa realised this and nodded.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you." Louisa admired the air of confidence which Martin could produce even when he was far from feeling it. While she helped Martin into his coat, she grabbed his lapels for a moment, looked into his eyes, whispering "Prim and proper again." He paid and they went.

Martin suggested taking a stroll through the Hoe before meeting Joan. Louisa clung to Martin's arm. It felt so great to finally be able to touch him. Near the lighthouse, she manoeuvred Martin towards a bench.

"Let's sit down for a moment, shall we?"

"He looked nervously at his watch. "But my aunt – won't she be waiting?"

"Don't worry about Joan. She'll be glad that we can share some time. Just a few minutes."

"Right." Both sat down, and while Martin was staring out at the sea, Louisa studied Martin's face intensely. Finally Martin felt uneasy about her look.

"What are you staring at? Is something not right?"

Louisa cupped his face and made him face her. She stared at him lovingly, slowly rubbing his cheeks.

"No Martin. Everything's right. More than right. Downright perfect." Louisa said lowly, still stroking him.

"Can you please stop that? We're in public. Please behave yourself." Martin uttered nervously. Louisa laughed and followed his wish, but kept staring at him.

"You're still that old prude, aren't you? You haven't forgotten to be shy, that's for sure. What's your problem? No one knows us down here anyway."

Martin felt more and more uneasy under her scrutinizing look.

"What are you staring at?"

"It's just…"

"What?"

She followed the line where the beard had covered his face, shielding it from the sun and therefore making it pale in comparison to his sun-burned skin.

"It looks kinda funny. You've got a two-coloured face. You'd better get some sun on this skin."

"And that's _exactly_ what I won't do!" Martin retorted. "You don't seem to realise how much damage is already done to my skin!"

"Of course, Martin. You're right." Louisa answered meekly.

Nervously he looked at his watch. To find an excuse he mentioned that it's getting late and that they shouldn't let his aunt wait.

"Please Martin, just a few minutes more."

"What for?"

"To be honest, I thought I'd never see your face again. Your quirky, lovely face." She almost whispered, and again couldn't help herself but run her fingers over his skin, following the features that were definitely Martin Ellingham. "It's good to see you again. The well-groomed, stiff, wonderful you." She ran her hand over his short-cropped hair. It was exactly how she remembered it. When the sun was shining onto it, it even showed traces of the blonde that had been in it before turning grey. Louisa noticed that Martin looked at her with a somewhat sad expression.

"Martin, is anything the matter?"

"It's just…" he sighed.

"Go ahead, tell me."

"I feel like I'm at your strings and you're the puppeteer. I can't even go into town without you."

"But that's just to begin with. Be patient Martin. It's not that I insisted, but Dr. Fellows thought it was better. You're still weak, and if something happens to you it's simply safer to have someone around. That's all, really. Believe me, everything I do is because I want you to be independent again as soon as possible."

Martin looked at his watch again, then stood up quietly. "Time to go."

"Yes, Martin." Louisa sighed. "Just keep running."

They went through the park towards the tea room where Joan was waiting. Louisa was deep in thought. Actually, Martin was so close now, she just had to raise her hand to touch him. Nevertheless, they were worlds apart, separated by memories – her horrid ones versus his lack of it. It was almost as if he had crossed the River Styx of the Ancient Greeks, which washed away all memories and made the person unreachable for the normal mortals.

Well, just one more contrast between her and Martin. Come to think of it, her attraction towards Martin was a lot about contrast – the one between herself and Martin as well as the ones within Martin's character.

Martin could be an astute observer, catching onto signs no one else seemed to see, sometimes recognising symptoms the patient themselves hadn't even found alarming – and then he didn't see the obvious. He was extremely skilled in his profession, and what he could do with his hands when he had to operate were astounding, even though she had only witnessed it with the emergency operation on Peter Cronk – and then he was so incredibly clumsy. His face, his grumpy, harsh face he chose to show the world – and the softness of it when he looked at her with so much tenderness. The air of confidence he had around him, giving the impression of being arrogant – and then his insecurities when they were alone together, and his humbleness. His sharp tongue and acid remarks – and then the way he was lost for words and monosyllabic. The way he seemed to care for no one and even detest humans in general – and then the way he always offered his help, and the way he cared for Joan. He was the most independent, grown up man she had ever met – but such a child! And in his advances to the opposite sex not more than a teenager.

Then the differences between Martin and herself. Martin was a solitary person, she was very sociable. He was monosyllabic, she liked a good chat. Martin was a townie, she was a villager. She was emotional, he was logical. He was serious, she was cheerful. She tried to help people with words, he with deeds. She was liked by the village, well he…. She was a family-oriented person, he seemed to be the eternal bachelor (something she hoped she could change). She was happy, while he…she didn't know. Somehow it seemed to her, that between them they would be complete, they would have everything, they would be able to do everything. Where he was at a loss, she was good at – and vice versa.

_To be continued..._


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Martin walked towards the edge of the Hoe, and then turned towards the Barbican. In a small winding street, he turned towards the "Tudor Rose Tea Room".

"Is that where we meet Joan?"

"Hm."

"Looks nice."

"Thanks. I asked the nurses, and they told me they make a decent coffee here."

"Sounds good. Oh, and it says it has a garden, too."

"You'll tell me where my aunt is sitting, won't you?"

Louisa could see by Martin's body language that he was extremely nervous. Well, maybe that was quite understandable.

"You'll know the moment she spots you – the one who jumps up and runs towards you will be her."

Martin swallowed, straightened up and then stretched his neck. He fingered his tie knot and then straightened his jacket. Finally he opened the door for Louisa, while whispering to himself "_Let's face the music_".

Louisa looked around immediately for Joan, but couldn't find her inside. Martin was standing nervously behind Louisa, looking towards various guests, paying special attention to single elderly ladies. There were only two solitary women sitting there, and he certainly hoped he wouldn't be related to either of them.

"It seems she's not in here." Louisa stated.

"Good."

"What do you mean?"

Louisa turned around to look at him and then followed his gaze. He scowled towards a grumpy old lady with the charm of a thunderstorm who was gorging down a traditional high tea in top speed.

Louisa smiled wryly. "Let's have a look in the garden. Maybe she's sitting outside."

At the back of the house was a small courtyard with several tables.

As soon as they passed the back door, a small, feisty, elderly woman jumped to her feet and rushed towards them. Martin looked astounded and tried to catch Louisa's eyes, she smiled and nodded.

"Marty!" Joan had reached her nephew and hugged him, much to his embarrassment. "Let me look at you!"

Joan held Martin at arms length and eyed him up.

"You look terrible!" She poked his side. "You've lost weight." She cupped his face. "Your cheeks look sunken." Martin felt very uncomfortable by now. "Well, just come back home and I'll feed you up." Joan gave her nephew another hug.

Louisa managed to manoeuvre the group towards the table Joan had been sitting at. She thought it would be wise to get Martin out of the centre, where everyone could see their reunion. She could tell that he was feeling uncomfortable about being fussed around like that in front of everybody.

When they sat down, Joan patted his shoulder. "I'm already feeding up one of my best birds for you. It'll make a wonderful welcome-home-dinner."

"Birds?"

"Yes, Marty – as in _chicken_."

"Oh, a chicken."

"What kind of bird were you thinking of?"

"Well, I…"

Luckily they were interrupted by the appearance of a young waitress. They placed their orders. When Martin was ordering just a salad, Joan tried to persuade him to eat something richer.

"Uhm…that's not a good idea, I'm afraid. My stomach isn't very stable yet." He uttered.

"Oh, well, there you go. You don't mind me treating myself to a proper afternoon tea, do you?"

"The nutritional value of clotted cream is very poor, and with a fat content of about 60% it is one of the most unhealthy foods possible."

"Serves me right for asking." Joan patted Martin's hand. "Good to have you back, _anyway_."

Martin was eyeing up this energetic woman who treated him with such a familiarity. She wasn't anything like he had expected. Somehow he had expected someone more suave, more refined. He couldn't see any family resemblance between himself and her. In fact, they couldn't be more different, he thought.

He had been shocked when she had so openly assessed him. He also knew that she was very determined, and wouldn't be put off easily.

He looked towards his other side. Another feisty woman. Another woman who wasn't discouraged easily. But this one was softer. More compassionate.

His aunt seemed to be a woman of action. He thought of that poor bird which was being especially spoiled now just to be fit to be slaughtered. Slaughtered for his benefit.

Joan saw her nephew watching her and Louisa with a concerned expression.

"What are you so glum about?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Or do you see anyone else at this table with a face as long as a fiddle."

Martin coughed nervously.

"Marty, be assured, we will both do everything to help you, you poor thing." Martin wrinkled his brow. Joan put her hand onto his. "Just get well, and when you come back, we'll take care of you. You'll see, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"How?"

"Oh, well. Nurture, care and some good meals – that should do it. We'll look after you won't we, Louisa?"

Louisa assured him that they would do everything.

"You can't give me my job back, can you?"

"No, but we can help you to settle down. Don't you worry. Getting work never was one of your major problems. You're too bright for that." Joan assured. "Since you were a boy, learning and working always came easy to you." _In contrast to enjoying yourself and making friends_, Joan added in her thoughts.

"Things are different now." Martin responded. '_I am different now_', he added in his thoughts.

"Yes, but you are not. Not really."

"You think so?"

"It seems to be that way."

"I suppose we have to wait to see what the meeting on Monday will bring."

"Chris has always supported you. He backed you up before, he'll do it again. Don't you worry."

"Backed me up?"

"Didn't you know? When you couldn't perform surgery any more due to your haemophobia – it was Chris who got you this job as GP and took on the responsibility."

"Oh, I see."

"So if he wants you back, he can't be completely disappointed, can he?" Joan smiled.

In the meantime, the waitress came with their respective orders. Martin took the first sip of coffee and then breathed in deeply.

"What is it, Martin?"

"That's a difference! Nothing like the brew they have in hospital."

Joan and Louisa looked at each other and Joan chuckled.

"What?" Martin asked a bit irritated.

Joan put her hand on her nephew's one. "If there was ever anything you did enjoy, it was a good cup of coffee."

"Oh, right." Martin looked at the smaller hand, rough from hard work – he noted – that was covering his. He cautiously looked up.

"Joan, uhm, maybe it's silly to ask – but how are we related, exactly?"

"Right, sure." Joan took her hand away to cut her scone in half. Spreading the strawberry jam generously on it. "See, I'm your father's sister."

"Right. My father. I take it he's dead."

"No, why?" Joan grabbed the clotted cream to put it on top of the jam.

"I mean, no one seems to have informed my parents. It would be the natural thing to do if they were still alive."

"You wouldn't want them to know." Joan said evasively.

"But.."

"There's no '_but_'!" Joan put her knife down energetically.

Louisa looked at her in astonishment. She had to admit, Martin's question had been a reasonable one. Why hadn't she thought of that? She knew that his parents had visited him the previous year, so it was safe to assume that they were still alive. So usually, they would have been given as the next of kin. Not informing them at all about such vital information seemed odd. Odder still, however, was Joan's sudden anger.

Martin looked at her questioningly.

"Eehhmm…aren't I on good terms with them?"

"No one is. Now eat your salad, before…well…Just eat."

That was odd, Martin thought. This aunt of his seemed to be completely unimpressed in regard to his amnesia, but was certainly very agitated when his parents were mentioned. He wondered what kind of people his parents were. He looked over to Louisa, who just put on an insecure smile and shrugged her shoulders, before paying attention to her toasted tea cake.

As both women were chewing their meal, Martin turned to his salad, poking around with his fork, which was complicated as he could only use his left hand.

Joan looked towards him and followed his attempts. She put her scone down and reached over. "Wait, Marty, let me help you with this."

"NO! No, thanks. I can manage. Sure I can. Please!" He tried to shrug her hand off.

"Just trying to help."

"Don't, please?"

"Alright, you're stubborn. Of course you are."

"I'm perfectly able to eat. You'd better get back to your carb bomb."

"At least it's a delicious carb bomb. I work hard, and I enjoy a good meal."

Martin was eyeing her up.

"Don't say anything nasty, I warn you!" Joan had followed Martin's look and feared she might not want to hear his opinion on this.

Martin coughed nervously.

For the rest of the meal, Martin inquired about Joan's farm. He was astonished that she really did all the work by herself, with no handyman whatsoever.

Joan inquired about Martin's well-being, but only got evasive answers assuring her that everything was fine, or at least soon would be.

It took Martin considerably longer to finish his meal than everybody else.

Louisa leaned back, watching the birds which attacked the crumbs at an abandoned table next to theirs.

"Martin, this was a wonderful idea. Actually, I can't remember ever having spent such a nice time together before. We should do that more often."

"What? Eating unnecessary meals at odd times?"

"No, just spending time together."

"Oh, right. I thought we did exactly that for…well, as long as I can remember, actually."

"But it's not the same in hospital, is it? Besides…" she leant forward to stroke his cheek…"you're far more your usual self now. That adds to it."

Louisa couldn't deny that he certainly wasn't his usual self yet. He still looked haggard and sunburned and funny with his chin far paler than the rest of his face. And these were just the changes she could see. But seeing him out of hospital was a step in the right direction.

_To be continued…_


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Finally, Martin had also finished his meal. Joan kept chatting and interrogating Martin. Louisa stepped in more and more often, as she could see that Martin was getting tired. Finally they paid for their meals and went off.

Joan had come down on her own, as Louisa had gone down earlier and planned to stay longer, as Joan had to make sure that her chickens were well looked after. Joan offered to come to hospital with them, but Martin didn't want to have any of it. He didn't want her to think of him as an invalid, but remember the time they had outside the clinic.

Instead, Martin insisted that they should take her to her car. The three of them strolled along the marina. Louisa noticed that Martin was having difficulties in walking around by now, but was trying to put on a brave face. To give him time to catch his breath without making him feel uncomfortable about it or fussed about, she pretended to admire some of the yachts. While she seemed to have a close look at some of the boats, she assessed carefully how Martin was doing, and only when he had caught his breath, she continued walking towards the south tip of the Hoe, where Joan's pick-up was.

The car park was not even half a mile away, but it took more than half an hour for them to reach it. Joan hugged her nephew again. With tears in her eyes she assured him how glad she was that he had finally let her meet him. She also couldn't help but blame him for letting her wait so long. She would have understood if he hadn't presented himself to her in top form. She wouldn't have minded a bit.

She warned him, that he couldn't keep her away for longer periods now. Assuring him that she would visit him again soon, she got into her car and drove off.

It was time now to get back to hospital. There was a bus line running from the Hoe to the hospital, so Martin started to walk towards the bus stop.

On the way back, Martin suddenly felt quite weak. It had been the longest day in a long time for him, and he seemed deprived of all his strength. He tried to pull himself together, but when they passed a bench, he stopped.

"Louisa, please let us rest a moment."

"Martin, are you OK?"

"Fine. Just a moment."

"Shall I get a cab? It can take us back to hospital."

"Don't be silly! The hospital is about a five minute bus drive away!"

"Five minutes plus a bit of walking distance to get to the bus stop. It can be too much if you don't feel up to it. No reason to be ashamed of taking a cab."

That did it. Martin's pride was truly hurt. He heaved himself up, but had to steady himself against the backrest.

"You can't go on like this. Let me get a cab, please!"

"Stop it!" Martin hissed. "I'll manage!"

"Then at least let me help you."

"Do you want to carry me back, or what?" Martin replied sarcastically.

"No, Martin. I can't." Louisa was annoyed. "But maybe you can lean onto me."

"I can't. I'm too heavy."

"You're far from being heavy enough for a man of your height. As long as you're not back to your old weight, I'm sure I can manage."

In fact, Louisa had been glad that Joan had found and packed some braces, otherwise she would have been really worried his trousers might have slipped off as he had lost quite some weight. She was desperate to see Martin out of his trousers, but not necessarily while walking through Plymouth.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm still too heavy and…well…tall."

"Please, at least let's try. Know what? I put my arm around your waist and you put yours around my shoulder. That way I can support you, and no one will notice. People will just think…" Louisa paused.

"…that we're a couple?" Martin finished the sentence.

There was an awkward silence between the two, staring into each others eyes. After a while Martin cleared his throat. Then he bashfully declared. "Louisa, please don't get this wrong, but…"

"I know, Martin. You're not committed to anything. I just thought…well, would it really be so embarrassing if people would think…"

"No! It's not that! It's just…"

"You're not up to it yet?"

"I'm not even up to walking to that bloody clinic."

"I just thought, if they think we're…a couple, it might be less embarrassing than thinking you're not up to walking straight."

Martin paused for a moment. "You're sure you can manage?"

"Let's try."

For an outsider, it looked as if a couple in a close embrace made its way through the harbour town. Only if someone would have taken the time to look at the strained, painful faces, they would have noticed that something was wrong.

Finally they reached the clinic. In the lift, Martin leant against the wall. Both of them puffing and panting. They pulled themselves together to manage the last few steps on the floor towards Martin's room. He collapsed on his bed, totally exhausted.

Louisa bent down to take his shoes off. Then she took out his sleeping bottoms and T-shirt. "Shall I help you to get more comfortable?"

This question made Martin regain some energy, and he forcefully rejected that offer. "That's what the nurses are here for!" He declared.

"Would you like me to go then, or shall I just fetch the nurse and come back when I've got myself a cuppa?"

"You need to get back home, don't you?"

"I'll be back as soon as you're comfortable and then stay a bit, right?"

Martin didn't say anything, but the hopeful glimmer in his eyes spoke volumes.

Louisa searched on the floor for a nurse, then went to the vending machine.

She got a coffee for Martin and a tea for herself and then went back to his room. Waiting outside for the nurse to return, she thought about the day and the weeks before. One thing worried her. She had got used to touching Martin. As he needed help even for the basic things, he came to accept her touch – like putting her arm around him to steady him, taking his shoes off. She had to admit that she liked it. Liked it a lot, actually. Being honest, it was not just the fact that she could help him. It went deeper than that.

When she had inspected his face closer in the park after his visit to the barber, she could have studied his face with her fingertips for far longer than he allowed her to do so. She also had felt the impulse to kiss him briefly on the lips, but seeing him grow uncomfortable under her touch, she had suppressed that impulse.

So how would it be when he wouldn't have to rely on her so much in future? When his strength returned? When he'd be able to look after himself again? Would he still allow her to touch him, or would he go back to being aloof?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door being opened.

"Is he decent again?"

"Yes, he has changed into his sleeping clothes. But what did you do today? He is absolutely knackered."

"Sorry about that. We just took a stroll through the Hoe and then had some tea in a tea room. That's all."

"We told him, he should not overdo it. After all, it was his first trip. Taking exercise is alright, but he shouldn't get himself exhausted like that."

Louisa smiled weakly. "Can I go in?"

"Sure."

"Hello Martin. Have you caught your breath a bit?"

He was lying on his back, looking vaguely into her direction. His left arm slightly stretched out.

Louisa sat down next to him. She couldn't resist taking his hand into hers. "Maybe we should have taken the cab?"

"No. It's fine."

"The nurse said we overdid it a bit."

"In taking the bus?"

"No. Generally today. Judging by the state of you."

"I'm fine."

"Don't give me that. You're totally exhausted."

"What from? Most of the time we sat in the tea room."

"You should take things easy."

"Actually, I thought it would be best if we take a walk whenever you visit me. You don't have to sit in this ghastly hospital all the time, and I can take some exercise. It's disgusting that I've not being able to have a little walk around. That has to stop."

"I guess you're just making it worse if you're on your feet too much too soon."

"Bollocks."

"We'll see."

Louisa studied his face. He looked so much better now.

"Martin, I'm so proud of you."

"Whatever for? I didn't do anything."

"The way you mastered today. Absolutely no one could possibly guess that you're not completely fit. You gave such a convincing impression of being confident and in control. It couldn't have been easy for you."

Martin looked at her. He'd like to talk to her about his fears. About his reservations. About the strange feeling of seeing himself in the mirror, knowing that this was the way he ought to look. The strange feeling of being among _normal_ people who knew nothing about his condition and therefore couldn't adapt their behaviour accordingly. Most of all he wished he could talk to her about the strange feeling of seeing his aunt. It had been challenging. She treated him so unlike any other person he had been around. He didn't know if that was due to the fact that she had known him for all of his life or not. He wanted to confess to her about feeling uneasy in her company. But he couldn't. Louisa's eyes were so soft, so understanding. Nevertheless, he couldn't even tell her about the turmoil he had experienced having to stand throughout the day.

Louisa looked into his eyes. There was something in there. An uneasiness. A vulnerability. And something else. She couldn't help but gently run her hand through his hair.

"Feels nice. You look good again."

"It's how the photos in my articles looked like."

"Yes, that's right. Exactly how it used to be."

"Good."

"How did you feel about Joan?"

"Uhm, yes. She's very direct, isn't she?"

Louisa laughed. "That's right. No beating around the bush with her."

"The way she examined me I felt like one of her chickens, being checked if they are fat enough to be slaughtered."

Louisa laughed again. He looked at her ponytail swaying wildly. "Don't worry. She has only the best in mind for you. She'll take good care of you as soon as you're out of here."

"She should take care of herself, first. Doesn't she work too hard for her age?"

"Don't tell her that. The farm is all she's got. It doesn't only provide her with her living, she really loves working there. Maybe it's also a bit to do with continuing with what her late husband had done. Maybe she still feels connected with him on the farm. And believe me, she's still going strong."

Louisa noticed that Martin had difficulties in concentrating now. He blinked his eyes, trying to stay awake.

"Why don't you take a nap before it's time for dinner and medicine?"

"You'd like to go home, wouldn't you?"

"No, Martin. I'll stay until you have finished dinner, if that's alright."

He sighed and settled in his cushions.

_To be continued…_


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Later that evening, when Louisa returned to Portwenn, she stopped at Joan's farm. When she knocked, a concerned looking Joan let her in. Louisa gladly accepted the offered cup of tea, but watched with some astonishment Joan quietly preparing their tea.

She certainly had expected a more cheerful, energetic Joan, but something was clearly bothering her.

Joan put a mug on the kitchen table for both of them and at first, they both silently drank their tea. Joan was looking towards Louisa, and somehow it made Louisa feel uneasy. Finally, Joan spoke into the silence.

"Why, Louisa? Why him?"

"I don't know. But at least he's back. Isn't that what really counts? I don't want to argue with fate. I know I will never know the answer."

"Haven't you seen his eyes?"

"Sure, why?"

"Louisa, haven't you seen?"

"I'm not sure that I know what you're aiming at."

"I know that look. He's scared. Take my word for it."

"Of course he is still a bit insecure…"

"…no, Louisa, that's not what I mean. He is terrified of the future. It is the same look he had as a boy, during the last days of his stay here at the farm and he realised that soon he had to go back to boarding school. He knew he would be bullied there. He knew he would suffer. He hated this bloody school so much. But he had to go there, and there was no way out of it. And that's how he looks."

"Don't you think you're making too much of it? Of course it's confusing for him. Of course he's scared. It would be unnatural not to be. But to assume that he is terrified of being hurt?"

"Don't tell me what my nephew's like. I've known him longer, and dare I say, better."

"He has to make many adjustments, and I can't begin to imagine how it must be to learn about your surroundings constantly at that age. Of course he is confused."

"Does he have nightmares?"

Louisa squirmed at that question. She hadn't told Joan about his lack of sleep and about the afternoon he had spent clutching her hand, trying to fight the demons in his dreams.

"Well, maybe he is a bit restless at night, but isn't that what you'd expect? After such a traumatic experience?"

"Yes, you're probably right. It's just…"

"What, Joan?"

"Well, it's not fair."

"You told me yourself, that life seldom is."

"Yes, but he of all people. He's worked so hard to come to terms."

"To terms with what?"

Joan made a vague gesture. "Life."

"What do you mean?"

"Louisa, has he ever told you about his childhood, his parent, school and all that."

"No. He never talked about the past or such."

"Well, I don't want to dwell on it. Pretty nasty subject. He really had the worst possible start in life. He was an insecure, sensitive, quiet boy. Boys like that never have it easy in boarding schools for boys. They are the weaklings, and everyone takes pleasure in bullying them. The teachers are more concerned that the boys should learn to fight back, so they don't provide much protection. Martin's parents thought he was needy, and he was to blame for being bullied and teased."

"Well, you're a teacher. I don't have to tell you how the more sensitive boys react. And I think you'll come to some pretty correct conclusions when I tell you that he still wet his bed even at the age of eleven."

Louisa gasped. She also knew that bed-wetting at that age was often was a sign of abuse, in whatever form.

"So, Marty had to build up an armour. Shield himself. It was against his nature to fight back, so he tried to seem invulnerable, so that others might lose interest. He fled to his work. Studying always came easy to him. He also was very curious, so I think he even enjoyed learning. At least I hope so."

"Now his armour has cracked. You can see the same insecurity and fear in his eyes. He has worked so hard to stand up against the world. Now, all of his effort has been lost and he has to go through all this again."

"Oh Joan! I had no idea!"

"Of course you didn't. He wouldn't really go around, announcing it, would he? Especially as he would make himself vulnerable."

Louisa thought about it. "That's why you were so adamant that his parents shouldn't be informed?"

"His mother would just be annoyed and his father, my _charming_ brother, would just have another reason for belittling him. No, Louisa. Marty has enough on his plate right now. He would struggle to cope with his parents at the best of times. Now, he certainly deserves better. Besides, if I understand it correctly, Marty made it clear that his parents should never come down here again when they visited last."

Louisa was holding her mug with both hands, looking down at the table. "And I thought I had bad luck with my parents."

"Believe me, Louisa, leaving a family can be more merciful than staying. You know, I tried to get custody for Marty at some point. It broke my heart to let this poor chap go back to the life he dreaded so much. Have you ever tried to convince the authorities that a child is far better off on a farm tight with money in the backwaters of Portwenn than in one of the most reputed boarding schools in the country with _respectable_, rich parents?"

"I suppose you don't stand a chance."

"Not the tiniest one, I can assure you. You see, I tried to help him then, but made everything worse, as my brother just looked for an excuse to forbid Marty to come down here. He even made his son believe that it wasn't _convenient_ for us to have him. At least I could assure Marty when he came back that he had always been welcomed."

"Now, he has to fight his way into life again. Again the circumstances are ridiculously hard. And, again, I'm not sure I can help him."

"Sure you can! You must. You must help me to support him."

"I'll certainly do what I can."

"Maybe you should talk with Dr. Fellows, or the counsellor that Martin refuses to accept. They already suspect that there must have been a traumatic experience before his abduction, and that this event just triggered the amnesia, the underlying cause, however, would be found elsewhere. Maybe if you can tell them all about Martin's childhood. At least as far as you know it."

"And then what, Louisa?"

"Maybe then he will get over that wretched amnesia!"

"And remember everything? His parents, who neglected and maybe even abused him? His time in boarding school, which he hated? All his rejections, including feeling rejected by Phil and me, even when we couldn't do anything about it? I don't know much about his time at university, as he visited only very few times and just wrote an occasional letter now and then, but I doubt that he had happy times there. Or do you think he would be eager to remember the humiliation when he wasn't able to perform surgery anymore? Do you think that would lift him up?"

"But it couldn't have been all bad? There must have been _some_ good in his life."

"Maybe. I hope so. I don't know everything, after all."

"But even if you're right. What would the alternative be? You said yourself that he is frightened now, and maybe just as insecure as he has been as a boy. Is that a good alternative? Would you like him to stay that way? I think he is terrified by the thought that everyone knows more about him than he does. Do you really think it would be fair to him not to help him to be in control again?"

"Right – Wrong – who can tell? Can you? I certainly can't. Maybe he would be better off if he could make a clean cut – a new start."

"But it's not like that, is it? He carries the burden, still, he just can't remember what kind of burden he's carrying."

Joan got up and took both mugs, both empty now, and carried them to the sink. She quickly washed them and put them upside down next to the sink.

"Well, I suppose you are right. I just know that I don't know what's right or wrong. I just feel sorry for him."

Louisa got up and put a hand on Joan's shoulder. "Thanks for not letting him know. Thanks for trying to cheer him up."

Joan turned around. "Don't you worry, I know that we owe it to him to be brave. It's just…." She sighed.

"Yes. I know."

_To be continued…_


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Sunday morning, after breakfast, Louisa met Roger Fenn. Roger had offered to collect the photos of the Portwennians, as Louisa was busy enough driving to and fro.

Roger had spoken to most of the villagers directly, and had taken their pictures in front of an appropriate backdrop. Most people where happy to let the Doc know who they were. Even if he was a tosser in their view, he also was _their_ Doc, and you have to stick together through thick and thin.

Louisa and Roger had agreed that printouts wouldn't be necessary, as Martin had computer access, so a USB flash drive would do.

When Roger came around, Louisa quickly switched her computer on and connected the flash drive.

Roger had done a good job. There was Bert, with one arm around Al's shoulder, beaming broadly under the sign "Large's Restaurant". Pauline was standing in front of the surgery, the bright sunshine making her colourful dress glow. Sally Tishell had put on her most seductive smile, she thought, while standing in front of the shelves of her pharmacy. Joe Penhale was posing proudly leaning against his police car in front of the harbour. Peter Cronk and mother were in front of the chippie, with Peter giving the Doc the thumbs up. The grocers, the fishmonger, the landlord of the pub, Dave, the postman – they were all there, and many more.

He had also driven down to Havenhurst farm, where Joan stood in that little pavilion overlooking the sea. Roger had asked Joan in return to take his photo, sitting at his piano at home accompanied by Maureen and their twins. There was just one more photo to be taken.

Louisa thanked Roger for taking care of this task and complimented him on the photos. Then she drove down to Plymouth. She had agreed with Joan that she would go down today, and then Joan could drive down on Monday. If they visited in turns, it wouldn't be too much for Martin having two visitors around, and both of them could get on with their "normal" life occasionally.

Joan would drive down Monday, Wednesday and Friday and leave the weekends for Louisa. Louisa just had to drive down to Plymouth twice during the week and could catch up with her work at school more from now on.

When Louisa entered Martin's room he was already fully dressed. He suggested taking another walk at the Hoe, as the weather was nice. Louisa wasn't sure, as he had exhausted himself the day before.

"Look, I've got to get in form sometime. Besides, last night I actually slept well. So, maybe, some exercise was all I needed. I just had to get out of this bloody hospital. It's simply not a healthy environment for any fit man."

"Well, you're not especially fit – yet."

"But I'm getting there, I tell you. It won't be long. I didn't need any help getting ready today at all. I'm getting there. So, do you want to accompany me or shall I do it later? Alone?"

Louisa thought he was overdoing things, as usual, and the thought of going out alone was a sign of pure madness. Under these circumstances, it would be safer if she went with him.

Martin insisted that they should walk down to the sea. Louisa agreed on one condition – should he end up being remotely worn out like the day before, they would get a taxi to go back. Hesitantly, Martin agreed.

So, the two of them strolled down the hill towards the marina, there they followed the seaside towards the park. For Louisa, it was a nice walk and she really enjoyed it. She could even forget her work and the stress momentarily. However, she tried to remind herself that she was responsible for Martin and that he should not overdo things. However, when they reached the park he still looked reasonably fit. He was walking in a good, but still not fast pace and his breathing was slightly accelerated, but he wasn't really out of breath.

After taking a tour through the Hoe, Louisa insisted on stopping at the café tucked away on the cliff face. There was no way that she would start walking back towards the hospital without giving Martin an opportunity to catch his breath.

However, he wasn't really that exhausted that she could insist on taking a cab. After a little refreshment, he should be OK, she hoped.

"Let's sit down outside. Wow, look at that view!"

"Basically the same as in the park. I mean, we _are_ still in the park. So, of course…"

"Yes, Martin, I know." Louisa replied impatiently. "But it's something different when you're in a café."

"No, it's not."

"Ohhh, alright. It's nice anyhow." Louisa sighed and sat down where she could enjoy the – maybe not so extraordinarily – beautiful view.

They took a seat and placed their order – only hot drinks, no unnecessary meals at odd times.

"I've got a USB with me, as Roger has taken lots of photos of the village and the villagers and saved them. I suppose your computer can handle it."

"Should do."

"That will give you an idea with whom you will have to deal with."

"_Ghastly." _Muttered Martin under his breath.

"Look, if you are really that negative about the village without even visiting it…"

"What? No!"

"But…"

"What?"

"You said the village is _ghastly_."

"No, I did not. The background music is."

"Oh." Louisa really hadn't noticed that the café played some sort of quiet pop.

Just now, a waiter brought the ordered tea and coffee.

"Just a question." Martin addressed the waiter. "Do we get any compensation for the rubbish we have to listen to here, or are there any corners where two adults can have a decent talk without being disturbed by this rubbish, adolescent's insults to the ears?"

Louisa gave him an annoyed look, while the waiter seemed unimpressed and business-like. "It seems most guests actually do like the _adolescent's rubbish_ around here and if it doesn't suit you, you can go to one of the stuffy grandparent's places. Maybe that is better suited for your generation." Towards Louisa he added. "Is there anything else?"

"No, it's fine." Louisa answered meekly.

"Fine is not what I would say, young man!" Martin blustered.

Louisa gave him a stern look. "Leave it!" She hissed, already regretting that she had been lured here by the stunning views, which were hard to enjoy with this bickering, and equally regretting that Martin wasn't just a tiny bit more exhausted.

The waiter disappeared quickly.

"I can't understand you." Martin kept on ranting. "They force you to listen to…to…this rubbish and you…"

"Nobody forced us. I mean, we did have the choice to sit down here or not."

Martin grumbled.

"Why are you always doing things like that?" Louisa asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You sure haven't changed. That's what I mean."

"Oh, good."

"Well, depends. Let's get back to the photos of the village. The most prominent figures are covered. It should give you a pretty good impression of the location and the locals."

"You are from the village, I take it?"

"Yes, born and bred. Only left it for university. Went to London. Never liked it. I missed the sea and the clean air and it was too impersonal for my taste."

"And I?"

"You're a true Londoner. Just came down here when…when the position of GP became vacant." Louisa tried to put it mildly.

"Right. But my family? I mean, Joan is living here, obviously."

"An uncle of hers had moved down here. It seemed he wanted a change of lifestyle. Maybe he didn't like hectic London himself. In his will, he left his place to Joan."

"Right, so the rest of my family is in London?"

"Actually, I don't know. You never talked about them. The last I heard about your parents, vaguely, it was said they lived somewhere abroad. Mediterranean or something."

"Right. It's just…."

Martin fell silent. Louisa didn't want to rush, but she wasn't sure if he waited for encouragement to continue. So some minutes passed by in silence.

"It's just what?"

"It's something Joan said yesterday. I kept thinking about. I mean, why aren't my parents informed if they are still alive?"

"Oh."

Martin looked worriedly towards Louisa, one eyebrow raised. Louisa just nervously bit her lip. Strictly speaking, she didn't know much. She certainly didn't feel entitled to tell him anything about it, especially as she could hardly give him any additional information if he had any questions. Maybe the easiest way out would be the most honest?

"Don't you want to tell me?" Martin finally pushed for an answer.

"I…ehm…Joan's visiting you tomorrow. Why don't you ask her? She knows more about your family than I do. Everything I know I know from her. So I think it would be better to ask her directly."

Martin gave her a quizzical look. He didn't like something about her answer. She seemed to be hiding something.

"Right. Tomorrow. Uhm…You're not coming?"

"Joan and I thought we could visit you in turns. Actually, I have neglected my job a bit, and I have to catch up with some work."

"Right, it's just…I mean tomorrow…I'll…"

"I can't be at the meeting with Chris. He didn't want to tell me when he will visit you, and I think that's a pretty strong indicator that he doesn't want me there. I will call you as soon as I can. I promise. I can't wait to get the news myself."

"Right. About the meeting…I still don't know what he wants from me."

"He just wants to see for himself how you're doing, and as he has to be down here anyway, he simply wants to visit you. Nothing to worry about, believe me."

"If he wants to know how I'm doing, he can get my patient's record. It has more information than I have."

"But then he doesn't know how you are. He doesn't want to have a case record. He needs to meet you."

"Louisa, I thought about it. Maybe he really just wants to tell me in person that there is nothing he can do and that I can't get my job back. I mean – who wants a potty GP? I suppose he just wants to break it to me gently."

"Dr. Martin Ellingham." Louisa spoke energetically. "Stop this. If he had any plans to replace you, I would have been one of the first to know, as I'm still on the panel committee. We would be informed, and I do assure you there has been no activity whatsoever. Besides, Chris pointed out that he would love to have you back. He just has to be sure that you can do it. He even assured me that he doesn't expect you to be fit for the job already. Maybe he can help to find ways for your re-training."

Martin looked into his empty coffee cup. How could he tell her that he simply didn't know if he could take another blow? She was so enthusiastic about everything. So positive. He wished he could borrow just a tiny bit of her confidence.

He had spent all his waking hours that weren't occupied with therapy or with Louisa's visits learning and practising. His whole thinking was spinning around medical matters. He had set his mind on training to be a GP again. Now he was frightened his little bubble might burst. In 24 hours his old colleague from university would visit him, and after exchanging niceties, he would declare that he was very sorry, but…

Martin was sure that this could be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Louisa could see that Martin was worried. After debating with herself for a short time, she finally put her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked up, and the sadness in his eyes made her choke.

"Look, you're a bloody brilliant doctor. I even dare to say you're the most bloody brilliant doctor who set foot in any Cornish surgery ever. You might even be the most bloody brilliant doctor who ever set out to be a GP. Chris would be a bloody fool to let you slip away. And he does know that. Don't worry. He knows how good you are in your profession."

"You mean how good I have been."

"No, Martin. What made you a good doctor is beyond memory. You're an astute observer. You detect symptoms no one looked at seriously before. You are very logical, sometimes irritatingly so. So you come to the right conclusion and know which aspects have to be investigated further to get to the bottom of things. You are very objective. Sometimes it drives me up the wall as you seem, well, almost cold at times, but for your job it's ideal, because you don't let hopes or fears taint your judgement."

"All this has nothing to do whatsoever with memory. It is just the way you are. And it's not the way you _were_, as you proved with your determination and your exact judgement of your own situation that it is all still there."

"Knowing medical fact is the least part of being a good doctor. Most of it is the capability to handle life-and-death situations. To make the right decisions even under the worst possible circumstances. And maybe your own difficult situation and the way you are handling it so admirably will make you an even better GP, if that is possible at all."

"You are born to be a doctor, and you will be one again. Promise me that you'll never doubt that."

"Well, first we have to get that blasted meeting out of the way tomorrow." Martin pushed the empty cup away and waved at the waiter. "Better get back."

After the refreshment Martin seemed reasonably fit and Louisa agreed that they should start walking up the hill. On the way, Martin discussed with Louisa how he should handle the meeting – should he meet his boss in his room, so that they had privacy when they talked things through, or would it be better to meet him in the canteen? How should he address him? After all, he was his boss _and_ his old mate from university? Martin was disappointed when Louisa told him that Chris Parsons' picture was _not _among the photos Louisa had brought with her. Martin would have liked to know beforehand who he was dealing with, but then decided he would google him.

They reached the hospital without being too exhausted and headed straight for Martin's room.

"Shall I wait outside for you to get comfortable?" Louisa offered.

"No, not today. I have to get used to being properly dressed during the whole day. It's time to leave the hospital look behind."

"You're sure, Martin? It has been a long day and a long walk, and maybe you'd better…"

"Don't fuss. I'm fine. I have to start acting like a human being rather than an invalid again."

Martin went to his computer and switched it on.

Together they went through the pictures. Louisa talked about everyone to be seen on the photos and provided some deep insight into each of them.

At first, Martin couldn't believe it. He had thought villages like this only existed on postcards. It didn't seem like a real world to him. More like the backdrop of one of those stupid TV series. He found himself asking aloud if there were actually real people living there.

This comment earned him a rather stern look from Louisa.

After a while he noticed that he wasn't paying much attention anymore to what Louisa was saying. He just enjoyed listening to the sound of her voice, the melody of her speech, her occasional laugh.

This façade of attention he had put on cracked when Louisa actually asked him something. It took him a minute or two to realise that she expected and answer. The problem was that he had no clue what the question had been. He started to stutter, and tried to come up with some commonplace answer to get him out of his misery.

Louisa noticed that he hadn't been listening lately and realised that his attention span had been used up.

"Martin, why don't you take a nap while I…"

"Just to make it clear, _if_ I take a nap, then I don't want you to stay here any longer. You have wasted half of your Sunday on visiting me, and as you pointed out earlier, you have to catch up on work. Please, do me the favour and go home. Rest a bit."

"But Martin..:"

"No, I'm serious. You're right. I am a bit down, and I would like to lie down a bit, but I would feel better if I knew that you were on your way home at a reasonable time, that is, and not late at night as usual. I have to prepare myself for the interview tomorrow anyway."

"Martin, it is _not_ an interview. Chris is an old friend."

"An old friend maybe, but one who can decide about my future. So I want to brush up on a couple of things."

"I really wouldn't mind …"

"But I would. Please. After all, you'll be calling tomorrow."

"Sure I will. First thing I can – during the break probably."

"If I don't answer, then Chris is with me. I hope you understand…"

"…sure. You can't answer the phone when he's still there. I understand. Then I will call later. In any case, Joan will come around in the afternoon."

"Uhm…right."

"Shall I go, then?"

"Ehm…right. Safe journey. Until tomorrow then."

As soon as Louisa had left him, Martin slumped down on the bed. He contemplated shortly if he should lie back fully dressed and just let the shoes drop to the floor, but then decided to fumble for his sleeping clothes. With much effort, he changed and then collapsed totally exhausted. He dozed off in no time.

In his dreams, the different villagers made somewhat static appearances, as if frozen in time. But one image popped into his mind regularly and made him smile in his sleep. It was the last photo taken, only this morning – Louisa in front of her school, her hair blowing in the wind, smiling broadly while the sea and an immaculate blue sky set the scene.

_To be continued…_


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The next morning, after breakfast, Martin hurried to get shaved and dressed. The day before, he had been reluctant to shave. After all, he couldn't remember doing it. Then he scolded himself. After all, the motor memory was one of the most powerful forms of memory. Something you've done for years, you can do it even if you haven't done so for some time.

Having reassured himself, he decided the best way to do it was simply not to think about it and went straight into action – the faster he would be handling the razor, the more he would have to rely on his sub-conscience, the easier it would be.

His strategy had worked fine. As long as he didn't think about what he was doing, he did it quite well. He realised again, that he actually still had all his memories, but it was like having a set of memory cards, but they were all upside down. He had to find a way to turn them over, and the picture might be complete again.

Somehow it horrified him what picture would be staring him in the face.

Having performed his morning ablutions, he chose a grey striped suit and a red tie. Although he still had his arm in a sling, it was mainly to minimize the stress, so he slipped out of the sling long enough to get dressed properly. Being well groomed and smartly dressed gave him security somehow, he noticed.

Then he sat down in front of his computer, determined to brush up a bit more on his medical knowledge. He checked his emails and found a new description of symptoms by his tutor. He tried to read it carefully to get all the important hints, when he was disturbed by someone opening the door.

Martin jumped to his feet, only to find himself in front of a nurse fiddling around with some towels. He groaned and slumped back onto the chair. However, he simply couldn't concentrate. He stared at his watch constantly and jumped at every noise he heard.

Only very reluctantly did he have his appointment for physio, as he didn't want to meet his boss all sweaty and exhausted, but on the other hand also didn't want to give the impression that he was not working with optimal dedication to restore his health.

However, he was able to persuade the physiotherapist to take things a little bit easier than usual. After the session was over, he rushed to his room and enquired immediately if someone had asked for him in the meantime, but no one has called so far.

Martin quickly freshened up and changed back into his suit. He hated this waiting game. He couldn't really concentrate on anything.

Then the phone rang. He jumped up, answering it.

"ELLINGHAM"

"Hello Martin, how did it go?" Louisa asked, eager to find out.

"It didn't go at all!" He was impatient by now. "He stood me up! He bloody well stood me up!"

"He didn't say when he planned to come, so you can't say that. He'll probably pop by any minute."

"I'll tell you what happened! He found a bloody replacement in some smart arse post graduate at Plymouth University and now he doesn't think he has to bother anymore! That's what happened!"

"Calm down. Chris is nothing like that, believe me. Besides, he can't appoint a GP all by himself."

"Well, then prepare for a meeting of your precious panel committee soon, as you will be presented with a brand new doctor in no time!"

"Stop it! You're just driving yourself crazy, and there is no reason for it at all."

"Oh, I've got no reason, have I? I'm losing my bloody job, even the prospect of it, but I've got no reason to be worried. That's great!"

"You don't know any of this. Stop worrying and just wait to see what happens. There might be a completely harmless explanation."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Everything's rosy-red and just dandy. So it must be me just imagining problems."

"I don't say you're imagining problems, but maybe just exaggerating them a bit. Don't you say?"

Right now there was a knock on the door, which took Martin completely by surprise, so much so that he even forgot to rant. Staring at the door, he murmured into a completely different direction than the speaker "I…sorry…" then he rung off. He didn't even hear Louisa whisper "Good luck."

While fumbling with his new mobile Louisa had organised to replace his lost one, he yelled "Come in!"

It shortly crossed his mind that it was strange that this visitor didn't only bother to knock, which very few people did to start with in this bloody hospital, but that he also had waited for his reply.

A slightly overweight, middle-aged man with spectacles and definitely balding entered the room and came towards Martin.

"Hello Mart, how are you, mate?"

"Chris Parsons, Chris?" Martin stuttered. He wondered for a moment that he should have studied with this man. Was he really that old? OK, he noticed that he was definitely grey, but otherwise – did he also look that old? He looked down at his visitor, as he was definitely smaller than he was, and inspected him thoroughly. Martin had googled Chris Parsons, but he now realised that most of the photos he had found must be quite some years old. It dawned on him what a great chunk of life had been erased by his wretched condition. He must have more past than he would have future. A scary thought. Of course he had already found out his date of birth, but the numbers were purely theoretical. This encounter with his contemporary, however, was not.

"Sure, who else? So how are you?"

"Fine." Said Martin in the abrupt way he had when he didn't want anyone to delve into his affairs.

"I must say, for such a safe pair of hands as you are, you manage to get yourself into all kinds of trouble. I still remember your lectures when we wanted to paint the town red as students. How we would not only endanger our health, but also our careers. You never had a single drink, as you didn't want to endanger your steady eye and steady hand."

"And now just look at you – the only one who forbade himself every bit of fun, who put his career into the centre of attention, so much so that there was hardly room for anything else – and you're the only one of our old gang who has to fight his way back into his job for the second time."

"So what did you come for, then? To get even with me for the lectures I might have given you, how long – must be decades – ago?"

"Sorry, mate, but it was meant as my strange way of showing my heartfelt concern. Well, and maybe really the attempt to get it into my head how you've screwed it up this time."

"Well, I must say, you make it sound as if I am to blame! I didn't do anything at all! It seems to be the general assumption that I was called out to an emergency and then…somehow…" Martin gulped.

Chris noticed the trouble his old mate was in and came over to pat his shoulder, the one that was not in the sling.

"Sorry, Mart. I didn't want to upset you. It's just…I seem to be getting used to helping you to get back on your feet."

"If that's so inconvenient, why do you do it? I didn't ask you to. You asked for this meeting. I'm starting to wonder if you just came to ridicule me."

"Come on, I really want to help. I always did, because I know what a brilliant doctor you are. Actually, I always envied you a bit. Everything came easy to you, always the high-flyer, always so damn superior. Your little set-backs – and they really are nothing more serious than that – just make you a tiny bit more human."

"To be honest, Mart, I would even have readily accepted your haemophobia if some of your brilliance would have rubbed off on me with it."

"Mind you, I wouldn't take your amnesia, though, not for anything in the world. But then, I've got a bit more to lose."

"I must say!"

"Sorry, mate, but my wife and kids wouldn't take it kindly if I couldn't remember them. After all, you don't have anyone…"

"I beg your pardon! I _do _have people who care about me."

"Sorry, I forgot the fair Miss Glasson." Chris smirked a bit.

"There is nothing funny about it. She really…really…"

"She cares about you."

"Yes she does!"

"You lucky devil. I don't know how you did win her. Really well done."

"There is _nothing_ to smirk about. Stop that."

"You don't want to tell me she's doing all this for you simply because she's a gentle soul?"

"She certainly is…I mean, she's not….uhm..:" Martin stuttered and coughed nervously.

"Quite alright, I get it."

"But I don't. Why did you come exactly – to ridicule or to gossip?"

Chris shook his head slightly. Whatever happened to his old mate, he certainly never had and probably would never have, any sense of humour. Maybe he knew now what made Martin so susceptible to set-backs. Martin took everything, including himself, too seriously. If someone would ever be able to unscrew that funny head of his, he certainly didn't want to know the mess that would pour out of it.

"OK, Mart, you're probably right. Honestly, I didn't want to ridicule or insult you. I really just came to help you."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

"No, really. Look, I'm sorry, but I also have to understand what's happening, and these comments are simply my way of coping."

"Great."

"Let's sit down and talk business, right?"

Martin looked sceptically, but offered Chris a seat.

"Martin, I would really like to have you back in your surgery as soon as possible."

"But…Somehow I feel a _but_ coming."

"_But_…" Martin frowned, but Chris continued. "…I can't simply re-install you. You have to work your way back."

"And I am working. It doesn't look too bad either. Look at the results…" Martin gathered several of his test exams, and placed them in front of his boss.

Chris picked them up, not overly interested. He knew what to expect. Martin looked quietly but completely tense over while the head of PCT flipped through the pages. Chris nodded while looking at the results.

"You see, there are hardly any inaccuracies, and certainly no mistakes. Dr. Fellows made contact for me with a tutor from Plymouth University, and he is practising with me, especially making diagnoses. I spent much time in the canteen, trying to find out what the patients in there are suffering from. However, I have to confess, it's not always easy to check if I was right. I can assure you…"

"Yes, Mart, I see. Nevertheless, you have to understand that you can't just go back to your surgery and shout '_Next patient!_'."

Martin grew tense. With definite venom in his voice he asked. "So who will replace me?"

"Look, it's nothing like that. I don't want to replace you."

"But you will, or do you have someone already?"

"Can we talk about this amicably, please? I have to tell you some things you won't like, but in the long run they all lead towards you being the only master of Portwenn surgery. I want you to remember that."

Martin frowned.

"Look, we need someone to look after the health of the village soon. Sooner than I can possibly re-install you. Furthermore, you've got to do some exams first and I would feel far more confident if you had someone around to start with."

"So, yes, I did look for a locum…" Martin stared at his boss in horror and disgust. "Mart, I said a _locum_. Nothing permanent. And I also think I've got the perfect choice."

"Well, everything's sorted, I don't see what you need me for, then." Martin replied sarcastically.

"I need you to get back in form, get fit, to take over your duty as sole medical support of the village next year."

"What? Next….and what do you think my replacement will do? If he has done so well, why should he possibly leave? "

"That's just the point, he wouldn't want to stay. That's what I meant that I have the perfect solution, and now, please, listen to me without interruption and without boiling with anger. You won't like some of it, but it's the only way I can see at the moment to re-install you without neglecting my responsibility for the village."

"See, I've got a friend whose nephew has finished his studies and his assistant years. He was quite a high-flyer himself. This young lad, Archibald Graham-Simmons, is strictly upper-class, was in one of the prestigious boarding schools, then Eton, Oxford…you know the routine. After all of this posh environment, we thought he might profit from meeting _real_ people for a change. Especially as he has bought himself into a group practice in Harley Street already."

"Point is, he can't start his job until beginning of the year after next, as the physician he shall replace won't retire until then."

"So he has one year to fill, to gain some experience. For him, it would be ideal to get as much contact with down-to-earth people as possible. As you have experienced yourself, they don't get more down-to-earth than in Portwenn."

"I thought, you can hold surgery with him. You would both profit by it, I think. He has his approbation, but hardly any experience. I think, and meeting you has so far confirmed my hopes, that you will still be able to teach him a thing or three as a diagnostician. You can serve your time as assistant doctor for your refreshment in your own surgery."

"Arch is quite a serious-minded young man, quite bright, with stiff upper lip and all that. So maybe you two will get along alright."

"There is no chance whatsoever, that he will have any wish to stay in Portwenn longer than necessary. From mid of next year on, he will have to go for London sometime to settle his affairs there, get a bit involved in his new surgery, organise things. That will give you opportunity to take over slowly as full-time medical support."

"To start with, however, you won't have to be there often, which will give you time to recover and for the time you will have to spend at Plymouth University. There are some courses, seminars and practical courses you will have to do before you regain permission to care for your patients alone."

"So what do you say?"

Martin took a deep breath.

"So I shall be the water boy for this smart-arse for a year, give him some unpaid and unwanted extra-lessons and have him get all the praise for it?"

"Sorry mate, if you're looking at it that way, but the only alternative I'd have is to get another doctor, and I'm not sure if they would be so easy to get rid of afterwards. You know what, you think about it and I'll call you tomorrow. But I need your response then. Sorry, I really can't wait any longer."

"First, Arch has to know for sure if he can come down here, otherwise he has to look for something else."

"Second, Miss Glasson's announcement Friday in the pub has stirred the water. Members of the panel committee have phoned me, urging me to solve the problem of medical support. I guess I will have to organise a meeting this week and would like to know for sure first if I can offer this solution."

"Honestly, mate, I think it would be the best solution for everyone."

Martin was flabbergasted. This was not at all what he had hoped for. His first impulse was to reject it vehemently right away, but some little voice in his head told him not to burn any bridges he might still need. In a daze and absentmindedly he simply nodded.

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow. My advice is to accept it. It's the best I can come up with. Besides, it would do you good not to overdo things immediately."

As Chris Parsons got up, Martin did so, too, and showed him to the door.

After he had seen his visitor out, he slumped onto his bed. He felt tired and exhausted beyond words, and his little bubble of hope really had been punctured at several points. He also had to admit, that it didn't burst completely.

He would call Louisa and talk it over with her. Get her advice. Later.

First he had to let it sink in.

_To be continued…_


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Monday evening, Louisa received two phone calls.

First, Martin called informing her about the meeting. Louisa tried her best to reassure him that Parsons actually had offered a very interesting strategy and that she also thought it would be advisable if Martin could slowly resume his duties. Overdoing things might just hamper his recovery. The call had ended with Martin promising that he would contact Chris to agree to this solution.

A little while later, Chris called. He was happy about Martin's agreement, especially as he felt that he couldn't postpone the panel meeting for much longer. Some of the members kept on pestering him. So, Louisa was invited as the lay member to the meeting on Wednesday evening.

xxx

Louisa sat in the meeting of the panel committee and listened quietly to the opinions of the fellow committee members. She couldn't believe her ears.

"The paramount question is, if we can get a regular GP down here soon or if we have to fill the gap with a locum."

"Maybe we will even have to organise a shuttle bus to Wadebridge until we can get a proper doctor down here."

"Maybe it would be worth it to have a temporary solution first. We don't want any doctor who hasn't got a chance anywhere else. This time it should be a decent one, one we can trust with the health care of our village."

"Right."

"So, we're back to our first question. How long will it take to appoint a quality GP for Portwenn and what will we do in the meantime?"

Louisa looked over to Chris Parson. They were the only ones not contributing to this discussion just yet.

"Well, first we have to get the surgery in working order again, and it wouldn't be helpful if someone else lives there, would it? The cottage doesn't provide privacy for anyone but the GP living there."

This was it! Louisa couldn't take any more.

"Pardon me! I can't believe it! I simply can't believe that you really mean what you're saying! Did you listen to what you've been saying? Have you _any_ idea what you are talking about? Or am I on the wrong planet, or what? Just look at you! The whole lot of you!"

"Miss Glasson, we know that you are a bit biased in this matter…"

"Biased my foot!" Louisa interrupted. "I'm not in the least biased! I just know that we have an extraordinarily brilliant GP at the moment, who unfortunately is on sick leave for a long period of time. I thought we would be discussing hiring a locum here, to decide what we should do until Dr. Ellingham can take up his duties again."

"But, no! Not only have you already fired him without a second thought, no, now you're discussing how you can throw him out of his own home! In case you haven't noticed, Dr. Ellingham _owns_ the cottage."

"We are sure there are ways that this can be handled in the best interest of all parties. Even Dr. Ellingham must see that there is no way that he can live in the same house where another GP will be practising."

Louisa jumped up, spat a bitter laugh, put her arms akimbo and looked provocatively into the round. "I can't believe this. I simply _can't _believe this! This is Candid Camera, right? You're having me on. You can't possibly mean anything you're saying."

"Miss Glasson, please calm down and be reasonable."

"Reasonable? _I _should be reasonable? Try it yourself!" Louisa paced up and down in front of the committee members.

"This man, our GP, has saved more lives in this bloody community than any GP I've ever heard of! Did he take even _one_ evening off during all those years that he was responsible for this village, let alone some holidays? Did he _ever_ send any patient away, no matter what time of day – or night? Dr. Ellingham is the best GP we can wish for and we can call ourselves lucky that he found his way down to sleepy Cornwall."

"Miss Glasson, we won't argue that he had been a very competent Doctor in the last years, however, we have to think about the future."

"And what kind of future have you in mind for Dr. Ellingham? Shall he exist on handouts? Or will you, in your endless generosity, allow him to clean the cliff paths of the rubbish the tourists have left? Unfortunately there is no bin big enough for the rubbish you're talking!"

"Miss Glasson, we can see that you are emotionally involved and, up to a point, I can understand this. However, if you are not able to discuss this matter-of-factly, we would prefer if you would leave the committee. We have to come to a solution for the sake of Portwenn."

"I admit, what happened to Dr. Ellingham is tragic and he has our sympathy. We also admit that his abilities as a GP have been adequate and there would have been no need for a replacement if he hadn't had this unfortunate accident that leaves him in a condition that we can't entrust the safety of our community to him."

"Did you even bother to inform yourself about his _condition_? Do you even know what _retrograde amnesia_ means? Or couldn't you brush up on it as you couldn't understand the description of it?"

They tried to comment on her accusations, but Louisa quickly continued, ignoring the angry shouts and grunts of the other committee members.

"Yes, Dr. Ellingham has a little problem with his memory. He can't remember his personal history or any people he has ever met. Well, I must add, in your case that's even a blessing." More murmurs, but Louisa was in a rage and couldn't be stopped easily.

"His factual memory, however, is almost completely intact. Furthermore, he has already started to intensify and test his knowledge. With the help of Dr. Chris Parsons and Dr. Fellows, his treating doctor, he had subscribed to Plymouth University, where his medical knowledge will be thoroughly checked. He is already working with the online-university and has taken some tests already, which, by the way, he passed with flying colours."

"MISS GLASSON!" she was interrupted sharply. "We acknowledge the efforts of Dr. Ellingham and admire your obvious loyalty, but being a GP is not just about medical knowledge. You have to have experience. You have to know your community."

"Maybe I'm missing something here, but do we have a GP which knows Portwenn and is willing to take the job? I am not aware of any other doctors in our village."

"Of course, when a new GP will be appointed he needs some time to get adjusted, but that can't be helped."

"Maybe I am a bit stupid, but where exactly is the advantage then having a new GP rather than to keep Dr. Ellingham? With time, he will get used to the village like any new GP. A possible new GP knows exactly as much about our village at the moment as Dr. Ellingham does. Besides, we know for sure that Dr. Ellingham is extraordinarily meticulous about his duties and far better in diagnosing patients than any GP we can wish for."

"Do I really have to spell it out for you – Dr. Ellingham is mentally damaged and, honestly, we don't think that this is the best qualification for a job with such responsibility."

"With _mentally damaged_ you mean he lost his memory, and as if it isn't enough, he shall also lose his job and his home. Great! Maybe I have to spell this out for _you_ – Dr. Ellingham wouldn't be in this _condition_ if he hadn't been so concerned for the welfare of our community."

"On that evening, he could have easily taken the night off, directing any calls to Wadebridge and we could have had a nice dinner for two on my balcony. By the way, the evening that he disappeared, had been a very nice one and sitting outside would have been fun."

"No, but Dr. Ellingham couldn't do that. He got a call, which lured him way out to Lundy Bay. Does it even belong to the village, I wonder? But he didn't care. All he knew was that there was someone needing his help, so he didn't hesitate _a second_ to sacrifice his pleasurable evening to attend to his duties."

"Very stupid, as I have to admit now. How can a man be so careless! He really shouldn't have done that – being a victim to foul play and losing his memory over this. That's really not worthy of a GP. I can see quite well how such a person can't be trusted." Louisa explained sarcastically.

"Do you realise, that _we_ are responsible for his condition, as his care for us made him go there in the first place? It's not that he planned to do something stupid, illegal or risky that led to his condition – like cliff diving or bungee-jumping or what. No, he just took up his responsibility for the welfare of Portwenn."

"But it wasn't wasted, I admit. To thank him we throw him out of his job and out of his house. And then they say that today, people don't know the meaning of gratitude anymore!"

"Miss Glasson, we've listened to you patiently, and we can assure you that we are sorry about the fate that has befallen Dr. Ellingham. However, it does not solve the problem of the future health care of Portwenn."

"Mr. Parsons, please, can you explain to them that there is no medical reason whatsoever why Dr. Ellingham shouldn't be able to perform his duties as a GP anymore?"

Finally Chris Parsons spoke up.

"I've followed to your discussion with interest, and I have to admit I'm stunned about the hubris with which you believe you can make a decision without being informed about the matter in the first place."

"By the way, _if_ Dr. Ellingham would have forgotten half of his medical knowledge –which is, by the way, not the case – he still would know more about medicine than all possible candidates for Portwenn together. As Miss Glasson has pointed out, his deficiencies seem to be entirely in his private recollection. This is tragic for him personally, but I can't see any influence on his abilities as GP in that respect."

"You were concerned that he would lack experience. It is true that he can't actively remember treating any patients, but his comments and discussions at the hospital clearly show that subconsciously he seems to know how to treat people."

This comment caused murmur among the committee members.

"I _can_ see that this is of some concern and that you like a bit more than that. First I would like to add that anyone interested in this post is very likely some graduate from medical school starting his career. You might not be aware of it, but small Cornish villages are not necessarily every doctor's dream career wise. Therefore, chances are that any possible candidate will lack experience."

"On the other hand, there's a fair chance that Dr. Ellingham will regain his memory. In the vast majority of cases of retrograde amnesia the patient sooner or later remembers quite well. Even in case if Dr. Ellingham does not ever regain his memory, he will learn more quickly, as his brain already has this information. He has just lost the means of accessing it."

"Miss Glasson also mentioned that he is already subscribed to Plymouth University. I've contacted some of the tutors there and explained the situation. They will check his knowledge thoroughly. I can assure you that we won't let Dr. Ellingham perform surgery, before he has repeated the main exams successfully. As it seems now, this shouldn't be a problem. As I already mentioned, he's forgotten more about medicine than others ever knew. When we allow him to do surgery again, he will have been so thoroughly tested as any graduate you might get."

"In the meantime I would suggest hiring a locum for, let's say, about a year. I am pretty sure that Dr. Ellingham will have successfully completed his refresher course by then and in the meantime he can assist the locum, giving him the opportunity to slowly gather work experience again. The village will have a back-up system and can be assured of having the best possible health care."

"That is the course of action I would recommend. Of course, as head of PCT I have to consider the wishes of the community. So, if you insist on replacing Dr. Ellingham, I will have no choice but to follow your demands. However, I have to warn you that it is very unlikely to get a highly-skilled GP like Dr. Ellingham down here."

"You might overestimate the attraction of Portwenn, but for the medical profession it is not very alluring."

Chris Parsons noticed that he had the full attention of the committee and started to present his plan in detail. The prospect of getting a doctor from such a prestigious family flattered the committee members, and soon, the resistance wore off.

At the end of the meeting, they could all agree to give the new locum a try, and to see how the recovery and re-training of Dr. Ellingham progressed and then meet again in six months to decide if Chris Parsons' proposition was working or if they had to correct their line of action.

_To be continued…_


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Chris Parsons was in high spirits coming out of the meeting and couldn't wait to inform Martin about the outcome.

Louisa reluctantly agreed to go down to Plymouth immediately. It was Joan's turn to visit, and it wouldn't be fair on her to interrupt her time with Martin. Besides, it was getting late, but Chris Parsons could not be stopped.

The same evening, Chris Parsons stormed into the hospital, having Louisa in tow. When they rushed into Martin's room, Joan was just hugging her nephew before driving off.

"What the hell…!" Martin exclaimed.

"Mart, you should have seen her!" Chris Parsons beamed at his old mate. Shuffling Louisa in front of him, he pointed with a broad gesture towards her.

"Her…this _magnificent_ woman. This _gorgeous_ specimen of femininity. Boy, how did you manage to get her on your side, you lucky devil?"

Chris put his arm on Martin's shoulder, who in returned just looked puzzled and tried to shrug it off.

"Would you mind telling me what you're babbling about?"

"Honest, Mart, you should have seen her! Boy, I never would have managed to read them the riot act the way she did. Phew! The moment she started, those twits were silenced very quickly."

"I don't know what you've done to deserve this, but she fought for you like a lioness for her cubs."

Louisa was standing quite uncomfortably now in the centre of the room. Martin looked from one to the other, still more than just slightly irritated.

"What does that mean? I presume you're talking about the panel meeting? Don't they want me as a GP? Is that it?"

"Oh, Mart! They don't have a choice! After what Louisa had told them – they couldn't do anything but embrace you with open arms! After her speech, you would think that they would worship the ground you walk on! Otherwise they would be left feeling like the miserable old gits they are!"

"Please, Mr. Parsons, don't exaggerate so much. I just told them the truth, just what had to be told."

"So you – what? – blackmailed? – them into giving me a job? Great! How is that supposed to work? They'll just wait for the first opportunity to sack me!"

Louisa looked accusingly over to Chris Parsons and mouthed the words '_Well done, really!"_. Towards Martin she spoke in a gentle tone.

"We just had to clarify your situation. That's all, really. They didn't quite know the amount of your problem, and naturally they were concerned that your impediment might influence your qualification as a GP. You have to understand that."

Chris Parson still hadn't quite fully realised Louisa's intention and was still in an elevated mood.

"Bloody idiots, that's what they've been. Louisa really told them off. One can see that she has had practise in scolding silly schoolboys."

Martin looked from one to the other with a raised eyebrow.

"What has it been now – a factual discussion or an opinionated shouting? Could you _convince_ them to accept me or did they give up because Louisa could shout louder?"

"Pardon me?" Louisa was miffed. "I don't _shout_ to prove my point, I'm perfectly capable of discussing things!"

Suddenly Chris realised the direction into which this discussion was heading and regretted whole-heartedly that he had got carried away and rushed over to Martin without a second thought.

"Sorry, mate. I suppose it wasn't the brightest idea to rush to tell you. It's getting late and I suppose we're all a bit tired. Maybe we'd better discuss this in the morning, eh? It's just that I was so happy for you, that you'll get the opportunity to get back to your old job, that I wanted to tell you in person. Besides, I wanted you to know what a brilliant job Miss Glasson had done. You really should appreciate her support."

Martin looked over to Louisa with a doubtful expression.

"So I take it the panel committee was against my appointment."

"Martin, it's really not that." Louisa tried to smooth things. "They just had to understand the situation…"

"But they have the medical case files. They should know."

"But you know how it is – the case file doesn't tell them how you're coping. That you are as brilliant a doctor as you ever were. We assured them that you're still a fine doctor and that you're re-training to have all the necessary qualifications – and now it's fine with them."

"Right."

"And Mart, we have to sit together to discuss the details."

"Details?" Martin's eyebrow was raised again.

"Well, you know, the surgery doesn't provide much privacy…"

"No, I do _not _know." Martin snapped back, supported by an accusing look of Louisa.

"Well, sure, it was just a phrase really."

"Chose your phrases more wisely in future."

"Sure, Mart, you're right. Sorry." Chris apologized lamely. "Gosh, I'm messing this up, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Martin!" Louisa scolded him.

"He asked." Martin said defensively.

"Chris has really been a huge help. You should be a little bit more patient."

Martin groaned.

"What, Martin? What is it?"

"Well, it's great. Suddenly flocks of people keep streaming in, telling me what to do, what not to do, how to live my life, whom to meet, where to go – and expecting me to be grateful, patient, happy, oh…and I don't know whatever else from me. I can't remember begging any of you for help. If you get involved, you shouldn't expect any reward."

Louisa was quite annoyed, also with Martin, but mainly with Chris. She looked around, trying to decide what to do. Chris composed himself.

"Sorry, Mart. I've not been very sensitive in this affair. You're right, it must be difficult to rely on others to plan your future, and I really do want you to be involved. That's why we should meet. I don't know where you'll be staying when you come out of hospital, for example."

"I thought I had a flat, at least I got that impression."

"A little cottage, in fact, but it also houses the surgery, and I don't know if you'd need a bit more rest when you come out."

"He can stay with me, if he likes." Louisa offered.

"And I've got plenty of room on the farm." Joan added.

"Right. Great. Enough." Martin shouted impatiently. "I do not know _any_ of these houses and I will certainly not make a decision about my future whereabouts without having at least looked at them."

"Right, Martin. I'm sorry. It's just…." Louisa bit her lips.

Chris finally realised what a stupid idea it had been to tell Martin immediately and in such a confused way, so he just wanted to get out.

"Right. I think we'd better leave you alone, now. You can have a look around Portwenn this weekend, can't you? Fit enough?"

"Should be." Martin confirmed.

"Great. You get yourself sorted, and I tell the locum that he can plan his stay in Portwenn. Then we can start trying to make it work. Right?"

"OK, and can I _please_ have some rest now?"

"Sure Mart, good night."

Chris ushered the women out of the room. Finally outside his door, Louisa turned around.

"Just a minute!" she shouted and was back in again.

She rushed towards Martin.

"Portwenn needs you. And I need you in Portwenn. Don't you ever forget that." She told him and then gave him a peck on the cheek, before leaving as quickly as she had come in.

Martin gave the closed door a befuddled look.

_To be continued…_


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

On Louisa's next visit, she talked with Martin about a possible visit to Portwenn on the weekend. She had already checked the best possible way to get Martin to and fro with Joan on the day before, after that disastrous surprise visit of Chris.

Louisa had tackled the subject with Martin on their way back from the walk they had taken, as it had become customary for the two of them.

Louisa just wanted to make sure that Martin was basically up to it physically. When he showed no signs of exhaustion on their way back, she addressed him.

"Look, sorry about last night."

"Well…"

"Really, we should have thought more about it before tumbling in like this, but we both were so excited that we had succeeded in giving Chris' plan a go, that we simply wanted to share it with you."

"I see."

"You're not still sore at us, are you?"

"Actually…"

"The meeting really was a success. You'll be fine."

"To be honest, I don't know where I stand at all. I mean, can I move into my house or can't I? And when do I have to?"

"Look, I talked with Joan about how to get you down to Portwenn so that you can have a look for yourself. Do you think you're already fit enough for a day trip?"

"I guess so. The walks I take don't present any problem anymore."

"Good. See, we thought that maybe you could come on Saturday?"

"For me, every day's the same. It's frustrating, really."

"Right. It would suit me, because I don't have to go to school and I've got the whole day. Joan and I would like to share the driving, so I'd like to pick you up and drive you down to Portwenn. We can have a look around the village, at my cottage, your cottage and after you have had a good look around, we can drive down to Joan's farm. She'll prepare a little meal for the three of us, and you can have a look around her place, and then we can talk again about your options."

Martin looked sceptically towards Louisa.

"Or maybe we do not talk right away, and you think about it for a while and we talk later. How's that?"

"Mmmh."

"Joan'll drive you back to the hospital afterwards. She'd rather drive you back, because she has more to do on her farm in the morning than later in the day. So she can keep up with everything that should be done."

"I see."

"Come on? What do you say?"

"I...eehm…isn't it too soon?"

"Don't you worry. The sooner, the better. Gives you more time to prepare yourself. Besides, it seems to me you're making quite good progress."

"It seems so, maybe."

Louisa linked arms with Martin to give him some assurance.

"It'll be good. Just wait and see."

And so he waited. Waited anxiously for Saturday. Waited anxiously to meet all those people who knew him all too well for his liking. People who were not particularly on his side, he supposed.

Martin waited until Saturday morning. He waited in his usual suit and tie, perfectly groomed. Having gone over and over those photos of the Portwennians, he was as well prepared as he could possibly be, but he felt a lump in his stomach and the definite urge to run until he reached a place where no one could possibly know him.

Nevertheless, he waited patiently until Louisa arrived on Saturday morning around 8am.

Louisa chatted happily all the way down to Portwenn. Martin just sat quietly next to her.

By the time they left the A38 and headed towards Bodmin, Martin realised what a long, strenuous journey Louisa had taken every bloody day, but instead of feeling grateful, he felt obliged to her. A feeling he didn't like at all.

The roads were getting smaller, the landscape more rural and Louisa's mood better and better. She was happily humming along while driving. The towns on the signposts all seemed to start with '_Tre-_', '_St._' or '_Port' _now.

Finally they were heading along a single track road with lots of green on either side and occasional glimpses of the sea, which became more and more often. Martin could feel a lump in his stomach, as this could only mean that they would arrive shortly.

After manoeuvring the car through ridiculously small and steep streets, Louisa parked it at a spot that most probably only locals would ever find.

"Last Stop Portwenn – All out." Louisa exclaimed playfully, earning only a grunt from Martin.

He folded himself out of the car, stretched a bit and looked around.

"So this is it, then?"

"Portwenn – and in glorious sunshine, too."

Louisa tried to link arms with Martin, but he shook her slightly off.

'_Great – old surrounding, old habits.'_ Louisa thought, but had no choice but to accept it. So without any physical contact, Louisa walked next to Martin to show him her village.

The first person they met was PC Penhale. Seeing the Doc from afar, he broke into a slight jog and headed straight towards him. Martin just had time to utter an irritated "Who…?" before he found himself in a tight clinch with the constable.

"I knew it Doc!" Penhale exclaimed close to tears. Martin tried to remove the clingy policemen from his neck, an expression of sheer horror on his face. Finally, Penhale stepped a bit back, but only to hit Martin's arm playfully.

"I always said – you and me, the Dynamic Duo. Nothing can happen to us, can it? We can even deal with the most difficult situations."

Martin cringed now, moaning under his breath. Louisa suddenly realised that it wasn't pure annoyance that made Martin shield away, but pain as Joe was happily slapping the arm that was out of the sling for only two days by now.

"Joe." She said softly, which showed no effect whatsoever on Penhale. So she shouted a bit louder, grapping his arm to prevent it from hitting Martin once again.

'Joe!" Penhale beamed idiotically towards Louisa. "His arm had been injured. You're hurting him." Louisa said softly.

Joe drew his arm away as if he had burned himself. "So sorry, Doc! Didn't mean no harm, honest."

"Idiot!" Hissed Martin, still rubbing his arm.

"Come on, Doc! Be fair. How could I possibly know that your arm's dodgy, eh?" He looked for assurance from Louisa to Martin and back again. Martin just rolled his eyes.

"Remember – you and I…" Penhale used his thumb to underline his words, and suddenly put his arm around Martin's shoulder to draw him towards him. "MATES!"

"No, I _do not_ remember." Martin gritted his teeth.

"Oh…fair point….of course not…I mean…" Joe stuttered, realising that this wasn't probably the brightest thing to say to someone with amnesia.

"Well, see the bright side." He suddenly concluded. "We can become friends all over again."

Martin mumbled "_Not if I can help it._"

"You see, Doc, I kinda know how you're feeling."

"I doubt that."

"No, really. When I was kicked in the head by that horse…"

"_Why doesn't that surprise me_?" Martin whispered and was rewarded by Louisa nudging him with the elbow.

"…I was quite confused for a couple of days."

Martin looked sceptically towards the PC.

"…well, more like weeks, to be honest."

"_Really?_"

"…up to months, maybe?" Penhale looked sheepishly towards his _best mate_.

"Did you ever get out of it?"

"You could say…well…sort of…I mean – hey, look at me!" Penhale had found his composure again, and was standing in front of the Doc with a broad gesture. "I'm completely normal again."

Martin raised his eyebrow and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Louisa had put a hand on Joes arm and said with a sincere voice. "Joe, Martin's not completely fit yet. Can you please leave it now?"

Penhale's face fell, then he took a step forward and with his most serious look and voice assured the Doc in a conspiratorial way.

"Doc. If you need anything – whatever, whenever." The he used his thumb to point to his chest, raised his eyebrows and smiled.

_To be continued…_


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

"Blimey! Am I really befriended with that…that…_oaf_?"

"Please, Martin – Joe's a good soul."

"Might be, but with a dubious mind – if you can use _mind _in context with that _creature _at all!"

"Really, he only means well."

"How can an idiot like him be a policeman – or has he stolen someone's uniform and just dresses up like one."

"Now you're being unfair. Joe's a fine PC."

Martin looked around, seeing a reasonably sleepy village. "Investigating what exactly – parking offenders and noise violation by screeching seagulls?"

"OK, maybe he doesn't have to deal with too many crimes as such, but that's not his fault, is it?"

"No, but maybe that's why he was _promoted _to be Portwenn's security officer?"

While Louisa was giving him a stern look, they passed Portwenn's pharmacy.

The cervical collared neck of Mrs. Tishell stretched out and a blissful smile washed over her face.

She immediately lost interest in her customer seeking advice for his athlete's foot. She pushed him out of her way and with a definite bounce in her step rushed forwards. The door of her shop flew open and she made a bee-line to the slowly disappearing couple.

"Ooooh…Doctor Ellingham!" She practically ran after him, waving her hand coyly. "Doctor Ellingham!"

Martin turned around, looked at his follower, and then looked towards Louisa with a raised eyebrow.

By now, Mrs. Tishell had reached him, trying to catch her breath.

"Oh, Doctor Ellingham. How _wonderful_ to have you back in Portwenn. It's such a _beeeaauuutiful_ surprise!" she cooed.

"Ehm…right…Mrs. Tishell?"

"Oh, you remember me?" Mrs. T wasn't sure if she liked the thought or not.

Martin looked very annoyed, but seeing Louisa's already warning look towards him, he simply added. "An educated guess."

Louisa jumped in, explaining that the Doc had spent some time learning about the village by the photos taken.

"Oh, I see. I should be flattered that you'd memorised my name."

"No, you shouldn't."

"I mean, as professional colleagues, we _did_ spend some time discussing new medical developments." Mrs. T added slyly.

Louisa shot Martin an astonished look. "You did?"

"How the heck should I know?" He snapped at Louisa, his voice slightly cracking.

Sally Tishell sported a fairly menacing smile by now. By the conversation so far she could tell that Doctor Ellingham had no idea whatsoever about the closeness of their relationship – or rather lack of it. So she felt free to push her luck further in putting her hand on his sleeve.

"To be honest with you, Doctor Ellingham, with you the last bit of civilisation and refinement had left Portwenn. There is _no one_ in these backwaters with whom an educated woman can have an inspiring conversation – _if you're not around_."

The pharmacist's claw was dug deep into Martin's sleeve now, with him looking in horrification at this woman. He feared she might eat him alive.

"Actually," Mrs. T continued "just this morning I came across an incredibly interesting article about small gases and their natural occurrence as messengers within the human body. If you have some time, we could discuss this over some tea and cake. As it happens, I baked one this morning. Just like old times."

Louisa was fed up. What had been going on between Martin and Mrs. Tishell. Until now, Louisa always got the impression that Martin had limited the encounters with Mrs. Tishell to the utmost necessity. Now it seemed quite obvious that they had been quite close.

"Right, Mrs. Tishell, I doubt that Martin – eh, Dr. Ellingham – will have time for any lengthy discussions today, no matter how much you've enjoyed them in the past." With this last comment she threw Martin a look that could kill.

"So I'm really sorry, but you've got to wait just a bit longer for this particular pleasure."

Mrs. Tishell's face fell, but she tried to keep her composure.

"Soooo sorry, Doctor Ellingham, but I'm sure as soon as you're back here for good and not dependant on others anymore – " she glanced over to her rival " – free to do as you please, so to speak, I'm sure we can continue where we left off."

Louisa dragged Martin further away, and for once he had to keep up with Louisa's pace. She was steaming with anger. While Martin was trying to keep up with Louisa, he glanced over occasionally.

Louisa noticed his staring, and that was just the last straw on the camel's back.

"I must say, Martin – you're really good for surprises. I never would have guessed…"

"Guessed what?"

"I mean, it all makes sense now, doesn't it? All our ruined dates due to _emergencies_. I'm such an idiot! A little village like Portwenn can't possibly provide so many emergencies to make up for all our ruined evenings! And all the time while I was thinking you are out saving a life, you were busy saving Mrs. Tishell's tea from getting cold! Did you two have a good laugh about me? I really deserved it."

She suddenly stopped, and Martin almost lost balance trying to follow her change of movement.

"And how long has this been going on?"

"Now you're ridiculous."

"So I'm ridiculous? I suppose you and your _educated_ friend took enough advantage of that!"

"That's not what I meant."

Martin was shouting now, and several nosy villagers tried to catch as much of the conversation as possible without being too obvious.

"But how can I possibly know what has been going on? I have to take _everybody's_ word for it!"

Louisa stormed off again, Martin trying to follow, still arguing. "Besides, she's _Mrs._ Tishell, so there must be a Mr. Tishell somewhere. So nothing could have possibly going on between us."

"Ha!"

"What does that mean?"

Louisa stopped again and turned to look Martin in the face. "Means _Ha!_"

"That makes it a lot clearer." Martin sneered.

"You should choose your alibi more wisely."

"I don't need an _alibi_, I'm just trying to be logical."

"Of course, whenever you try to find an excuse, then it's logic. Everything else is ….ah, forget it!"

"No, really. I mean Mr. Tishell…"

"…is on an oil rig almost all the time and just visits every couple of months for a couple of days. So don't you worry – you'll be safe from him."

"How am I supposed to know that? Your wonderful coverage of the village doesn't mention him."

"Of course not – if he isn't here, he can't be covered. Or do you think he'll get extra holidays just because you're back?"

"But be reasonable. You can't honestly think that I and _that _woman?" Martin shuddered. "She's creepy."

"You're horrid, Martin."

"Honestly, I don't think you know what you want." Martin's voice cracked.

Just as they arrived at Louisa's cottage, a crescendo of giggles warned Louisa of more trouble to come.

The inevitable bunch of teenage girls ploughed through the street.

"Uuuhhh, look! Who's naughty now?"

"He didn't forget how to get into some knickers."

"Yeah, digustin'."

"Who the hell…?" Martin burst out.

"Oh, Doc – don't remember me? Eh?"

"Don't tell us you forgotten what you've done with her." More giggles.

"Oooohhh, look how he blushes?"

"It's obvious what he's up to."

"Pervert!"

"Yeah, 'n tosser!"

Now the chorus chimed into a collective "Remember me?", which they repeated several times.

Louisa tried to shoo them away. "Right, enough! Really, you're too old for that stupid behaviour. Your vicious comments are bad enough at the best of times, but laughing about someone's ailment is really a step too far." Then pointing to one of the girls, who all looked shockingly similar to Martin, she said. "Really, Shirley, I especially expected better from you, after what you're mother has gone through recently. And you, Denise, is your brother still on the needle up in Manchester? You've got reason to look at yourself, first. So leave Doctor Ellingham alone!"

The giggling group strolled further down the village road, looking for new victims for their malicious tongues.

Martin couldn't make head or tale of it, he just knew that this encounter was deeply irritating and, yes, hurtful.

Actually, all the encounters in this weird village had been irritating. This is where he had spent the last years of his life? No wonder he had gone crazy.

"Sorry about that, Martin." Louisa turned to him. Her protective instincts had blown away the clouds of jealousy somehow. "This is one of the few inconveniences we have to live with down here. There is not much to do for teenagers, so some of them get bored and hang around. There's been a tradition of bunches of girls for as long as I can remember. Just the cast of characters changes. Nothing personal."

"Nothing personal? They were implying that we'd…" Martin cleared his throat.

"Yes, Martin, I know. Teenagers teeming with hormones. That's all that they can think of."

_To be continued…_


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Louisa unlocked the door and let them both in. Martin followed Louisa a bit unsure, carefully looking around. While Louisa discarded her handbag in its usual corner, she encouraged Martin to have a good look around.

"Well, Martin. Welcome. I…well, can I offer you something? Tea? Coffee, although you have to put up with instant, I'm afraid? Or some water?"

Martin waved his hand to decline the offer.

"Right, eh, you'd better have a good look around, after all, this is the first contender for possible accommodation."

"Uhm…yes…" Martin stalked through the living room/kitchen are, which seemed to melt together, and was prolonged into the patio in one sweep. He looked around carefully, and finally stopped in front of the French windows.

Louisa watched the scene with growing nervousness. His demeanour didn't give anything away and he hadn't said a word until now. Louisa felt strangely exposed, not knowing what to do.

"So, what do you think?" she finally asked from across the room.

"Uhm…nice views." Martin stated.

"Well, and about the possibility of staying?"

"It's quite…uhm…small, isn't it?"

"Well, old cottages in fishing villages usually aren't too spacious, but it works quite well."

"But wouldn't I be in the way?"

"No, not at all! I mean, you're welcome to stay. We just have to …snuggle close a bit?"

Martin turned around a bit alarmed.

"Maybe you like to see the upstairs, before…" Louisa's statement was interrupted by a knock on the door.

When she approached the door, she could already hear through the closed door who was interrupting this time.

"Dad, I really think we should give 'em some space."

"Nonsense, son! We're just welcoming him back in the community, right? We are being _friendly_."

"Dontcha think they want a bit of privacy, at least at home. You know how the Doc is."

"How often shall I tell you, boy? You'll never learn how to friendly with your neighbour, will you? You always have to make the first step. You're always standing around waiting for others to make a move. You have to cross the street, and offer your helping hand."

"Well, I…" Al couldn't finish his sentence, as the front door opened and they were face to face with Louisa.

"Hello, Louisa! We've heard the Doc's back. We just came to say hello." Bert babbled and squeezed his large frame, as far as possible, past Louisa, almost squashing Louisa in the doorway.

Al looked embarrassed. "DAD! Careful!"

"Sure, sure son."

"Sorry, Louisa."

"Hmph..!"

Martin finally paid attention to the scene at the door. "What the hell! Be careful, you fat imbecile!"

He rushed towards the entrance. "Louisa, are you OK?"

"Yes, yes. Seems OK." Louisa tried to straighten her clothes and hair.

Martin faced Bert. "Bert Large, right?"

"Sure do, Doc. So your memory's better?"

"Certainly not."

"Right?"

"If you run around like a bloated elephant, then at least keep distant from civilised people!"

"Now, now, Doc. You know I try to shift it, but it seems useless."

"Might be because you shuffle along at snail's pace and stuff yourself like a Christmas turkey?"

Bert chuckled. "What do you know?" He winked towards his son. "Seems the Doc's back to normal, doesn't it?"

"Right. Dad? You think we should go now?"

"Al, we just arrived. It would be unneighbourly to disappear immediately." Towards Louisa. "Children!" He shook his chubby head. "They spend their whole day in front of the computer and have no clue about interpersonal relationships anymore."

"Dad! I'm no child!"

Martin intervened. "Did you come to have an audience for your private bickering, or is there any purpose to your visit that we don't know of, yet?"

"Doc, we just came to welcome you back to the village." Bert spread his arms to take the Doc into his embrace.

"Take your hands off me, you oversized oaf!" Martin shrugged Bert's hands off.

Bert held his hands up in defence. "Alright, Doc! He _is_ in good spirits again, isn't he?" He turned to Louisa.

"Bert, I'm sure Martin appreciates your friendly welcome.."

"No, I don't!"

"Well, point is, we really hoped to sort some things out today…"

"We just popped in to say how glad we are to have the Doc back in our village."

Martin screwed up his face over the brainless outpouring from the chubby chap, but then glanced over Bert's shoulder and spotted Al who stood awkwardly next to the door.

Martin pointed towards Bert. "You – shut up!" Then turning towards Al. "You – aren't you the one who organised the search?"

Bert took Al into a clinch. "Yes, that's my boy! He really…"

Martin confronted Bert directly and barked at him. "YOU, SHUT YOUR FACE!"

Martin pushed Bert out of the way.

"Al Large, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Doc. Learned your lessons, haven't you?"

"Ehm…yes…a bit of preparation."

"Must be ghastly. However, at least you're back in one piece."

"Uhm…yes."

"To be honest, when we found your car deserted at such a remote spot, I've given up hope of ever seeing you again. Alive, that is. Would have been a shame. We would have lost a mighty fine doctor."

"Uhm…right. About the doctor…."

"Sure, you'll need some time. But you will come back, eventually, won't you?"

"I'll try to…I'm working on it."

"Great. Pauline will love to hear it. And how are things? Any pains, injuries…apart from…?"

"A few, but they're fine now, mostly."

"If there's anything I can do, help?"

"You did enough. I want to…uhm…thank you….ehm…that is. Must have been…inconvenient…to spend so much time…searching, I mean."

"Quite alright, Doc. Not half as inconvenient as it had been for you traipsing through the woods when Mark and I needed help. I never forgot how relieved I was to see you. Well, so this search was really…well…" Al shrugged his shoulders.

"I just wanted you to know that it is appreciated."

"Quite alright, Doc. Just get back to the surgery soon and give Pauline her job back, then we're even. To be honest, she's getting a bit on my nerves hanging around all day whining about being unemployed and the bad employment situation."

Martin held out his hand as an offer to shake hands. Al squeezed his hand sheepishly.

"Right, Dad, we've pestered them long enough. Give'em some space, eh?"

"But boy…"

"No, Dad. C'mon."

Shepherding Bert out the door, Al turned around to wave at Martin and Louisa. Then the door closed and it was quiet again.

_To be continued…_


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"Oh Gawd! Is it always like that?" Martin groaned.

"Like _what_, exactly?"

"People pestering you wherever you are? I've got the feeling we couldn't walk five steps without anyone bending our ears."

"Of course word got around quickly that you're back, and people want to welcome you. It's a village. People care about each other."

"And how can you make them stop caring about you?"

"You can't, Martin. When you went missing, it was natural for the village to stand together trying to find you. Now that you're back, the whole village is equally interested in that. We share good times and bad times."

"'_Till Death Do Us Part'_." Martin mumbled,

"Yes, Martin. It is a bit like a marriage. And fortunately, Death hasn't had any say in it yet." Louisa looked at Martin with rising anger. To dissolve her anger, and as they were standing near the door anyway, Louisa asked if he wanted to see the upstairs.

"Uhm…right. Can't do any harm to look at it."

"Well, then…up we go."

Louisa climbed the stairs first, with Martin following. He noticed that walking directly behind Louisa, his eyes had the unnerving habit to rest on her lower backside a bit too intensely, so he made an effort to look away. Trying to direct his attention to less attractive sights, he stopped looking in front of him while keep climbing the stairs. His thoughts were truly given a new direction, when he hit his head on the beam.

"Ouch! Damn!" He exclaimed, while Louisa immediately turned around, all concern.

"Martin, what's the matter?" Louisa was a few steps ahead, and so she looked slightly down to Martin Ellingham for a change, who was pressing one of his large hands against his forehead. "Mind your head!"

"Oh, thanks for the warning! It _would_ have been appreciated. It's a bit late now."

"Uh…sorry. I should have warned you."

"Yes, you should."

"Ehm…that was really the lowest point. You should be OK for the rest of the stairs."

"Oh, thanks for telling me where I _won't_ have any problems."

"Well, these old staircases have their little quirks."

"I don't mind quirks – it's the beam that hit me."

"Right…uhm…come through."

They had finally reached the upper landing. There was a little bathroom, a reasonable master and an extremely tiny spare room, currently used for storage. To be honest, that's what it was most suited for.

Martin stood at the entrance of this small lodging. "You really expect me to live here?" he asked incredulously.

"Uhm…well…if you'd like to stay here, I'm sure we could work out something. There is a daybed downstairs, and I do have a portable bed. So there are options. I can always make room for you."

Martin turned around to look at her. Why was it that this woman was so eager to share her little living space with him? As generous as she had been with her time, she seemed equally generous about her living space.

He gulped. He was on the verge of asking her exactly that, but he was afraid of the answer. So, he simply replied: "I'll bear that in mind."

"Right, then there's nothing more to see, really. What about a tea, then?"

Martin didn't really want anything, but what he wanted even less was to leave the cottage immediately – and to possibly to run into more villagers.

Back in the living area, Martin sat down, watching Louisa putting the kettle on. She had to assure him several times that there was no chance that he could possibly help.

He didn't know what to say, so he looked at his hands, and waited. They drank the tea mostly in silence.

"Well, Martin. Now you've seen about half the village. What about inspecting the other half, eh?"

"Uhm…right."

He awkwardly got up, and the two of them continued the tour through the village.

Obviously, the word had already spread that the Doc was visiting, because there were more people about than usual, and everyone was trying to have a word with the Doc. Some even had the nerve to come to him with medical complaints, just wanting to have a quick diagnosis. Martin brushed them away brusquely, while Louisa tried to make them understand that he was not fit himself, and that they had to wait a bit longer before he was able to perform surgery again.

"But Doc, I'm really worried, but I've got a lot to do at the farm, and with the B&B guests staying, I haven't got time to go to Wadebridge, but my back's really killing me. Can't you just take a quick peek at it?" A middle-aged man, tanned from working outdoors, kept pestering him.

"Sod off!" Martin exclaimed. "I hardly know my medical condition and couldn't care less about your bloody back!"

His outbreak was witnessed by quite some people around the harbour, causing murmurs all around.

Another voice came from the crowd. "But Doc, that's not like you at all. No matter your manners, but we always knew you…"

"I am not like myself right now?" Martin yelled. "If you know me, then you're better off than I am myself right now."

Martin needed some air. All these people and their babbling about how he had changed, how he was feeling, when he would be coming back were suffocating him. He used his arms to make way and rushed into the direction where the fewest people were.

Louisa just wanted to run after him, when someone addressed her.

"Bad moment?"

Louisa turned around to look into the smiling face of Roger Fenn, pushing a pram for twins, with Maureen just next to him.

"Oh, hello Roger. I think I'd better see where Martin has gone to."

"Don't worry, I just saw him disappearing into the life boat station. He'll probably be hiding there until the crowd has dissolved."

"Ah, good."

"We were just at the pharmacy. The little 'un has a bit of an upset stomach, you see. Of course we were also given the news that the Doc's back."

"Not back, really, but just having a look around, to get used to everything and decide how he's going to live. He can't stay in hospital forever, after all."

"So he's not really better?"

"Physically, he is."

"But his memory is still playing tricks?"

"Very much so, I'm afraid. That's why he freaked out, because someone mentioned that he didn't act the way he usually did."

"Right. We just thought we'd linger around a bit to see if we can say hello. I mean, you can hardly miss anyone in Portwenn, can you? But I think we'd better leave that for later. If the villagers haven't scared him away for good, that is."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to meet you. After all, he knows how much you have contributed to the search."

"Well, give him my regards. We can always exchange niceties when he has settled down a bit. Looks to me like he has had an overdose of Portwennians already."

"True, it seems we ran into everyone today."

"Don't we always? Bye, see you. And don't forget to give him our regards and tell him, we're glad to have him back. Aren't we, Maureen?"

"Sure we are. After all, it was him who spotted our twins first."

"And we'll need him if they are to grow up strong and healthy. So tell him, the next generation of villagers is counting on him. Good luck."

"That's very kind of you. I'll tell him."

The little Fenn-family headed into the opposite direction, glad to know that the Doc was back and in reasonably good health, and glad that they hadn't added to his distress.

The crowd had dissolved and everyone was minding his own business mainly, and Louisa made her way to the life boat station to coax Martin out of his hideout.

_To be continued…_


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

She peeked into the building, and it took some time before her eyes got used to the comparatively dark surroundings. After a few minutes, she could make out a tall shadow, lingering near the boats.

"The coast is clear, Martin."

"What? No. It's just…I thought I saw something…someone…" Martin tried to make some lame excuses for disappearing like that and hiding in a dark corner. Louisa smiled, unbeknown to Martin as the shadows covered it.

"It's OK, whatever you've seen, it's not here anymore, and the crowd outside had dissolved. And by the way, the Fenns send their regards."

"Are they out there? Does everyone in this blasted village know that I'm here?" Martin was alarmed. To be honest, he had met enough people for one day.

"They had been at the pharmacy because one of their twins has an upset tummy…."

"…so they thought I could have a quick peek at it. Great. Why didn't you bring them in here?"

"No, Martin. They don't want you to have a look at it, as they know that you're still on sick leave. They just heard from Mrs. Tishell that you're visiting and thought they'd walk over to say hello."

Martin groaned.

"BUT," Louisa continued energetically, "when they saw you surrounded by half the village they decided you've had enough attention already, so they just sent you their greetings and hope they'll have a chance to meet you some other day."

Louisa could see Martin relax. "Good."

"What about having a look at your surgery then? Joan and I took the liberty of cleaning it a bit last week. I hope you don't mind, but we didn't want you to see it in _that_ condition. Over the months, it had become a bit dusty."

"Right. Good."

Louisa managed to get Martin to the exit, but before he made a step into the open, he peeked around cautiously to see if the crowd had dissolved. Happy to see that there were only a few people in sight, each one minding his own business, they started their way up the hill.

Louisa realised quickly that the walks Martin had taken in Plymouth lately had done him a lot of good, but did not prepare him for the steep hills of Portwenn.

It was obvious that Martin had slowed down considerably climbing the hill towards his home.

"If you need a break?" She offered, seeing that he was really struggling to keep going.

"I'm fine." Martin puffed, clearly out of breath.

"Or maybe we should…"

"No!"

Martin didn't even want to hear. He was struggling enough as it was. The last thing he needed was good advice.

The definite sound of a motor approached them. Louisa feared the worst that this could only mean one thing, while Martin continued his uphill-battle.

A moment later, a bright red scooter swayed past them and stopped immediately in front of them, blocking the narrow street.

"What the hell…?" Martin gasped.

"Uuuhh, hello Doc! You're back!"

"No, I'm not."

"You can't fool me. I see that you're back, and I know _exactly_ what you need."

"I doubt that."

"What _you_ need, Doc, is a practise manager!"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, come on! How are you going to open your surgery without a practise manager?" By now Pauline had taken her helmet off, her red curls tumbling all around her face and shoulders, and was now leaning forward conspiratively.

"You're lucky, you know? I happen to be available right now."

"Of course, because you can't find another job." Martin retorted, remembering what Al had said and the information given on the fact sheets about Portwenn, which had told him that this person was Al's girlfriend.

"That's not fair, Doc. You know, I could have found a job. Sure I could. But I knew you needed me to get things going in case you'd be coming back."

"Right."

"So when do I start? Monday?"

"Not with me."

"What's the matter, Doc? You know you're helpless without me."

Martin eyed her up critically. Of course he couldn't know for sure, but the impression this person gave was hardly one of a competent, hard working, well organised practise manager. He couldn't imagine himself _relying_ on her.

"I'm not." He finally said defensively.

"Just open the practise on Monday without me and we'll see!" Pauline spat out.

"I won't."

Louisa realised it was about time for her to dissolve the atmosphere.

"Pauline, Martin won't open his surgery any time soon. There are things to be organised. It's very likely we'll get a locum in before Martin is really fit enough to manage the practise alone again. So why don't you wait for the replacement and have a word with him, I'm sure he'll appreciate your offer."

"I very much doubt that." Martin muttered, but Pauline decided to ignore him. The news Louisa had given her was far too interesting to be spoilt by the Doc's grumpiness.

"So the surgery _will_ re-open soon?" She inquired eagerly.

"Chris Parsons' currently in negotiations with a possible locum. It shouldn't be too long before the surgery is open again."

"Oh, goody! I've got to tell Al. He'll be thrilled!" Pauline exclaimed, putting her helmet on again. She adjusted her scooter to drive back downhill, but before she sped off, she smiled at the Doc.

"See you then! I never thought I'd say anything like it – but glad to see you back."

Then she started her vehicle and rushed downhill, waving one hand over her head.

Martin stared downhill. "What was that?"

"Your receptionist."

"I did realise that."

"She's just exited to get her job back."

"I didn't say so."

"Who else could take the job? You'll get used to her."

Doubtfully he looked at Louisa and then worriedly up the hill. It seemed to him that the hill got steeper and steeper. He really feared he wouldn't make it. Every muscle in his body told him to stop.

"Come on, just a few steps more."

Martin didn't feel up to it, yet. To gain time he looked up the hill, and noticing the restaurant entrance, he inquired: "Who's restaurant is it?"

"Oh, that's Bert's latest idea. He's decided he wants to be a restaurant owner. I have to admit, it looks good so far. Lovely views."

"Bert?" Martin exclaimed in horror. "This fat oaf who couldn't keep his mouth shut?"

"Uhm…" Louisa didn't want to agree to this description, as it was more that just a little bit unflattering, but she couldn't deny that she recognised who he was talking about. "Uhm…the one who visited you at my place with his son, Al."

"_He_ is practically my neighbour?"

"Yes, in a way, but don't you want to see where you live?" Louisa was getting impatient. She didn't spend hours cleaning Martin's house for nothing, with Joan's help, of course.

"Isn't it getting late? I mean, isn't Joan waiting with supper?"

"Well, we are a bit behind schedule, but Joan will understand."

"Maybe then we'll better go to the car. I don't want to be late, really."

"But what about your home, don't you want to see it?" Louisa asked astonished.

There was no way Martin could think of to try avoiding looking at his house. It was strange, but it wasn't only the steep hill that kept him from walking any further. There was something very odd about being shown around your own house. It made him realise even more what a sorry state he was in. To be honest, meeting all these strangers, who treated him with so much familiarity, as they knew him well, even if he didn't know them, had worn him out. He sighed deeply.

"Do we have to?"

Louisa was astonished to hear him complain. That was the last thing she had expected. Wasn't he curious to see where he lived? She knew that she would be.

"Don't you want to?"

"Ehm…", Martin cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "No really, but if you insist."

"No, Martin, of course you don't have to. What do you want to do instead?"

"Maybe we can drive to Joan's farm?" _Farm_ did sound secluded, away from all these people. It sounded like a quiet spot. Exactly what he wanted now.

"Sure, let's go to the car, shall we?"

Martin gladly turned around. This was mostly downhill, and he gathered his last reserves to manage that.

_To be continued…_


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Martin was resting in his passenger seat, leaning against the head-rest, looking absentmindedly out of the window. Louisa had tried to ask him about his impressions, but he hadn't answered in any intelligible way. Finally, she had given up, realising that she would only earn grunts and groans from him.

Martin noticed that the road led into a very remote area. The lanes were ridiculously narrow. No one in his right state of mind could have planned it for two-way traffic.

At least there was no sign of any close neighbour. When Louisa parked her car in front of the house, all Martin could see was a farm which had seen better days and the blue sea that couldn't look better.

"Martin, this is it."

"Hm."

They both got out of the car, and Louisa couldn't help but feel that this little day out in Portwenn hadn't been a complete success.

Joan had seen the car arriving and was now hurrying towards her two visitors.

"Marty! Welcome home." Her voice was slightly quivering but bursting with joy while she forced him into a hug. Louisa watched this smiling as she didn't understand that such a tall strong man could so easily be forced into physical contact when he clearly dreaded it so much.

"It has been too long." Joan mumbled. "Far too long."

"Aunt Joan." Martin replied stiffly, trying to free himself from this close embrace.

Immediately, Joan let her nephew go and looked at him accusingly. "How often shall I tell you? _Auntie Joan_ is the right way to address me. You should know it by now."

"Auntie Joan." repeated Martin meekly.

Joan laughed and patted his back. "That's better, boy. Come in. Lunch is waiting. I don't have a fattened calf for the Lost Son, but I hope my best chicken will do."

Cheerfully she led him into the kitchen. Having learned the painful lesson about low beams in old cottages, Martin ducked to avoid another encounter with the rural architecture.

"Everything's ready, I was just waiting for you two."

"I think I'd better freshen myself up. Where are the facilities?" Martin asked, indecisively looking at his hands.

Joan showed him the way to the bathroom. When she came back into the kitchen, she couldn't wait any longer to ask Louisa how the day had been.

"It was a bit rocky, to be honest."

"So he didn't like it any better than before?"

"I think to say he felt claustrophobic might be a huge understatement."

"As I said – not any better than before."

Louisa gave Joan a dirty look. "It didn't help that word had spread like the plague that he was around, so we ran into half of Portwenn, it seems."

"Which was to be expected."

"Well, maybe, but by the time we had got to the harbour, people were flocking to him."

"Poor Marty. Not a promising start. What about…? No, maybe I shouldn't ask this."

"What about what?"

"See, it's like that. I thought being back in his usual surroundings…the people he knows…maybe his memory would be triggered or somthin'."

"No, it was not." A stern voice answered, as Martin had just approached without them noticing. "Can we eat now?"

While Louisa looked guilty, Joan kept on with her usual confidence. "Well, Marty, as it is, I do worry about it. You can't blame me for taking an interest in your well-being."

In the meantime, Louisa and Martin had sat down around the kitchen table, while Joan was serving the meal. After she had put the bowl with the vegetables next to Martin, she patted his arm.

"Don't worry. It'll come to you. You always had to do things the hard way, but you always got there."

"Great."

Joan looked at her troubled nephew with a knowing look. No matter what had happened to him, in terms of behaviour she still knew her Marty well.

Joan filled Martin's plate with a good portion of chicken breast and placed it in front of him, adding fresh potatoes and vegetables in ample amount. Joan noticed with satisfaction that Martin tucked in to his lunch heartily.

"Better than hospital food?"

"That is really crap, in comparison."

"Good. Only fresh produce. None of it ever left the farm."

"You've got quite a stretch of land to work on, I gather."

"Well, it's hardly enough to make a living. Good thing, though, is that you don't need so much for your living costs. Most of the food I can produce myself, there's a spring for water supply, the building and land is paid for. Some repairs should be done, but that has to wait until there's a bit of money available. The tractor has seen better days, but somehow I can always make it work again. I can sell a good deal of my eggs and vegetables around here. There are quite a lot of B&Bs advertising they use free range eggs and preferably local products for their breakfast. That ensures a bit of a living. All in all, I can muddle through."

"It's a lot of work, for you alone."

"One isn't getting any younger, but for the time being, I can manage."

"For how long have you had this farm?"

"We inherited it when I was in my mid-thirties, Phil and I, from my Uncle Dick."

"So the family has roots here?"

"No, Dick was somewhat of a black sheep. Everyone in our family was into medicine, but he had this funny dream about living a rural life as a Cornish farmer. The family did everything to stop him, but even as a little boy he had an allotment to grow vegetables, right there in London. One of the gardeners took him under his wing and taught him everything about growing vegetables. Of course, Dick had to study medicine like everyone else in the family, but when he inherited a bit of money, he sold everything he owned and spent practically all his money to buy this farm and land. The family was in arms, but he didn't care. They didn't speak with him for ages, until they realised that this farm would be a cheap and convenient way to send the children away for holidays. So, my brother, my sister and I regularly spent the summers down here."

"So medicine is the traditional trade of our family?"

"You followed right in the footsteps of your grandfathers, your father and even my sister is a doctor. I suppose I am the black sheep of this generation." Joan chuckled.

"Nothing disrespectable in earning a decent living in farming."

"See, not everyone in this family is so broad minded as you."

"Not everyone can be a doctor. That's stupid. What would we eat?"

"Righto. To be honest, my parents didn't really expect me to study anything. Marrying rich was more along their lines. They wanted me to be a nice young debutante in London society."

"Stubborn as I was, I married for love. Unheard of in our family. Unfortunately my Phil didn't have a thing – except for a heart as big as a whale and two strong hands, always keen on good honest work."

Louisa listened to this conversation with much interest. It seemed, Martin was by no means the oddest duck in this pond. Being rich seemed to bring different kind of problems, ones her family never knew.

As a child, Louisa always thought it would be great to have a Dad like ol' Phil Norton. She couldn't imagine him getting drunk almost every night and gambling all night long until the last penny had gone down the drains. She couldn't understand how anyone could have the slightest objection against such a hard-working, honest son-in-law like Phil Norton.

"So you moved with your husband as far away from London as you could."

"No need to. I met Phil here, on the farm. He was a farmhand at Uncle Dick's farm. His family had a farm on the moors for ages, but could always just make a living. Then, one autumn, a barn was struck by lightning and in no time ablaze. They lost all the hay they had made for winter feeding. That meant end of education for poor Phil. He was fourteen at that time, and quite bright. Nevertheless, he had to work to support the family. Earning some extra money to afford the forage and building a new barn. Uncle Dick took him on."

"During my next summer holidays we met. He was a hard-working fifteen year old man and I was a pampered child of fourteen." Joan chuckled again. "He changed that quite quickly." She finished with a smile.

"And that's how I ended up here." Joan declared, while putting the dishes away. "And there's no other place on earth where I'd want to be. How about apple pie for pudding?"

They finished the meal with a little piece of apple pie for Martin and a slightly bigger one for Joan and Louisa.

"You've really spoiled us." Louisa thanked Joan. "This was delicious, wasn't it, Martin?"

"It was quite nice."

Joan got up to put the last plates away. Passing Martin, she put a hand on his shoulder. "It was my pleasure. It's not often you can welcome someone back. I missed you, you know."

Martin was sitting stiffly on his chair, staring in front of him and clearing his throat.

Joan clonked the cutlery into the sink and then asked her nephew cheerfully: "How about having a look around? You've got to know what you might get yourself into in case you want to keep me company. If the cooking hasn't driven you away, that is."

"No, the meal was nice. Good." Martin got up. "Alright then."

Joan showed him around in her cosy but relatively spacious farm. Last, she showed him the guest room.

"That's where you used to stay as a boy. You see, you were also sent down here for holidays when you were little." Joan patted his shoulder. "You're the only Ellingham in your generation, so it was a bit lonely for you."

"That's the way it goes. Each generation…" Joan's voice trailed off, and she ended in a mere whisper "And then there were none."

Louisa looked at Joan. She never had realised that this family tree was not really going strong.

Joan pulled herself together quickly. "But now I might have some company again, for a little while. What do you say, Marty?"

"Hm."

Martin looked around carefully, he sat down on the bed and bounced up and down a bit. The mattress was crap and the bed worn. He got up and looked out of the window. Fields and sea was all that could be seen.

"Nothing more to see, I'm afraid. I can show you around the grounds, if you like. There's a lovely little pavilion at the sea. Might be a nice place to relax and regain energy." Joan gave Martin's shoulder a playful slap.

"The little walk might do you good after the meal."

"Uhm…sure."

_To be continued…_


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Joan went downstairs and out of the back door, with her two guests following. She just went out and headed to the less productive and purely decorative area of her land, directly by the coast.

"Aren't you going to lock up?"

"Oh Marty, that's the townie for you. There's really no need for that. Hardly anyone ever comes here. The next neighbours are almost a mile away. Mother and son. A bit Bodmin, but generally quite nice. The boy roams around here sometimes. Calls himself an artist." Joan chuckled and turned around to the couple following her. "Whatever that means."

"Otherwise you've seen most of my _neighbours_ already. Here are the chickens directly at the farm. Then up there, you'll see some sheep. That's part of the farm." Joan pointed towards some white dots on a green hill. "And the rest is nature at its best. Birds, bees and whatever finds its way down here."

By now they had reached a nice little gazebo overlooking the sea. "And here it is, the icing on the cake, if you ask me." Joan made a broad gesture, clearly proud of this little piece of heaven. Louisa just uttered under her breath. "It's gorgeous!"

Martin looked around approvingly.

"So what do you think?" Joan probed him.

"This might work." Martin said, clearly more thinking aloud than talking to anyone in particular. Then he breathed in deeply.

"Come on, Marty, this was always your favourite spot. Don't tell me you don't like it anymore."

"Nice."

"It's simply stunning!" Louisa chimed in.

Joan looked knowingly at those two. "Maybe I'd better get back. Few things to do before I can drive you back. It's getting late. I'll leave you to it."

"Maybe we should…" Martin started to protest.

"In a while. You two stay here. I've got a farm to run." Joan quickly walked back towards the farm, while Martin looked after her.

"Martin." Louisa said lowly.

"Hm?"

"So what do you say?"

"About what?"

"Have you already decided where you want to stay, when you come out of hospital, that is?"

"Uh…uhm…"

"Does that mean yes or no?"

"It was a lot to take in."

Louisa stepped towards Martin. "Yes, an awful lot. I hope you're not too exhausted."

"Actually, the village – I found all these people quite irritating."

"It's not always like that, but you were back and that was of course a huge attraction."

"Maybe."

"Surely, Martin." Martin looked shyly towards Louisa, but then turned around to watch the sea.

"Louisa, I know you want me back in the village." He breathed in deeply. "Honestly, I don't think I can master the hill up to my surgery constantly yet. So I have to decide against living in my own house for a while."

"I appreciate your offer to accommodate me, but you have to admit that you don't really have ample room. It would be quite cramped. Besides, it's in the middle of the village, and I'm really not sure if I want the whole of Portwenn watching every setback, or even every little bit of progress."

"Most practical for me would be to stay here for a while." Louisa sighed while listening to Martin's explanation. "I think the quietude would do me good. It doesn't mean that I won't go into the village, but I can decide for how long and I can get away from it when I need to."

"To be able to get back to work I will have to study hard and this place gives me more opportunities to work in quiet than your cottage, where I most probably will be interrupted every other minute. I mean, we were at your place for how long? Maybe 45 minutes? And there were considerable interruptions."

Now Martin turned towards Louisa, to talk to her. "I am really sorry, but I think this is the only way it can work."

"It's OK, Martin, I do understand."

Martin couldn't tell Louisa about the strange feeling of security he had felt as soon as he had entered the farm. He had to understand it himself, first.

Louisa persuaded Martin to sit down for a moment. The scenery was beautiful, she had the company she had wished for, but something was missing. There was no romance. After that strenuous day, Louisa didn't dare to disturb Martin by too much chatting. He looked silently over the sea, and maybe he needed this quietude to collect his thoughts. Maybe, she thought, some other time we'll be here and things will be different.

o-o-o-o-o-o

A couple of hours later. Martin was back in his hospital room. _His_ hospital room? No, he was kidding himself. This was not where he belonged. This had nothing to do with real life. Out there had been the real life. Nosy neighbours, irritating inhabitants, steep streets he wasn't able to climb yet had been the real life.

This was just a hideout. A farce.

He had to face real life. He had to learn to deal with people, he had to learn how to live his life again.

Before his visit to Portwenn he thought he was making good progress, getting out every day to take some exercise, walking through Plymouth and studying at the computer. What a fool he had been!

It was easy to walk through Plymouth, because no one was interested in him. People were just part of the scenery.

In Portwenn he had learned what it meant to be with other people – interrogations, interruption, interference. He hadn't liked this experience. He had felt trapped, being ambushed, but that had been a real interaction.

In hospital he was more or less pampered. They were responsible for him and made sure he got the proper care. In town he was just one face among others and he could melt into the bustle. In Portwenn he had been confronted with the situation without anyone shielding him.

It was about time, he realised, to make some decisions. To start his life. He couldn't wait for the past to commence his future.

However, his first decision would mean that he would have to choose to be a burden on either Louisa or Joan.

He could understand Joan's motivation for offering help. From what he had heard, she'd known him for all of his life and almost had a motherly relationship towards him. These bonds don't tear easily.

But it was beyond him why Louisa was so eager to help, even offering her tiny cottage to share, which would leave her with no privacy at all. Louisa, who was always generous with her time, although she had a full-time job. As far as he understood, they weren't really an item and they'd just known each other for a couple of years. He simply couldn't understand why she was acting the way she was.

He straightened his tall figure while staring out of the window. He had to accept that he couldn't make it on his own for now. First, the trip had proven to him that he wasn't as fit as he thought he was. Second, he realised that he couldn't just act upon instinct to pick up his life again. There was some learning to do, and he needed guidance. Last, and that was the most painful point to admit to, he didn't dare to stand on his own two feet alone just yet.

Seeing his cottage, his surgery, even when it had been from a bit of a distance, had made his stomach turn. He was really glad that he had been so obviously exhausted that he had a good excuse not to enter the cottage. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he had almost panicked at the thought of it.

He had to get over this silly notion as quickly as possible. After all, having seen both Joan and Louisa in their usual surroundings had made it clear to him that the last thing they needed was looking after him. They both had a busy life, but had generously agreed to help him through this tough time. It was his responsibility now to make sure he didn't overuse their generosity.

First and foremost he had to start being mobile again. The drive down there had made it clear that it would be absolutely impossible for him to get out and about without a car. He had to start retraining as soon as possible. For his studies as well as for aftertreatment he would have to go to Truro and Plymouth regularly. He couldn't expect Joan or Louisa to be driving him all the time, he didn't want them to.

Next, he had to contact Chris Parsons again to confer with him and his tutors from the university about a strict roadmap for his training. No fooling around online anymore, but a strict exam plan, making sure to get the necessary re-examinations done as soon as possible. He needed a defined curriculum to know exactly what to study. He had the impression that he still understood a great deal of what he was reading and picking up in hospital, so this was the subject he was most confident with.

Tomorrow he would contact Dr. Fellows. He had to know when he could be released from hospital. The sooner, the better. Prolonging these unrealistic circumstances would just slow down his progress. He had to move forwards. Quickly.

He had put too much burden on the two women who helped him already.

Come to think of it, he was quite lucky. He had two people on his side, although he couldn't repay them at the moment at all and no one knew if he'd ever be able to.

No, that wasn't true, he had _three_ people on his side. Chris Parsons helped him, too, and he didn't know why, either.

He owed it to them to succeed as quickly as possible.

_To be continued…_


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Martin stood in the farm yard, a suitcase in each hand. He took a deep breath. This was it. This was the start of his new life. From now on, he was responsible for himself. Well, not entirely, as Joan would be there, but still it was different from the safe surroundings of his hospital room.

He was equipped with a tight roadmap for his studies. He had a meeting earlier this week with his tutor and Chris Parsons. Both had declared he was crazy trying to follow this tight schedule, especially given that he was still recovering, but he had forced them to make the timing as tight as possible. He pushed them until they downright refused to tighten the schedule even more. So this was the fastest he could get back to earning a living.

It was not the money that was worrying him. He did have a disability insurance which paid for the time he was unable to work. Of course the insurance company was eager for him to regain his ability to work, but that was not why he was pushing it. He needed to work to assure himself that he was a worthy human being, not just a burden to friends and family. The confidence Joan, Chris and Louisa had in him made him eager to repay their trust.

In three months he had his first exam. He knew exactly the curriculum he had to follow until then. He would have to study hard, but he had enough time on his hands.

He also had strict instructions for exercise. The hospital had been reluctant to discharge him. He was living far from medical support, especially given that he was the cause that there was no GP in Portwenn at the moment. Physical therapy was even more out of reach. However, Martin had been adamant to be sent home as quickly as possible, now, that he had realised that real life could just be learned outside the hospital.

He had a long meeting with the head nurse, who had given him a long list of exercise he had to follow. Physical exercise to improve his shoulder and general fitness as well as Memory Training. He was advised which measures might improve the probability that his memory was triggered. He had instructions how to cope with his nightmares, which were still tormenting him regularly. He was also given the address of a therapist in Wadebridge, but he doubted very much that he would ever contact him.

For next week his first driving lesson was arranged. The driving instructor was an old friend of Joan, he would pick him up and leave him at the farm again. Martin wasn't looking forward to driving on the narrow roads. He had hoped for easier streets to start with, but that couldn't be helped.

Knowing now all the tasks that had to be done, he had sat down to work out a timetable, ensuring regular change between physical exercise and studying to maintain optimum attention. He had also blocked some time to help cooking and cleaning. Joan had protested when he had enquired about the work load he had to take into consideration, but he insisted. He had explained to her that he had to get used to everyday tasks as well, as he wanted to move into his own cottage as soon as possible. The true reason was that he didn't want to take advantage of his aunt's generosity. He was grateful that she had assured her help, making it clear to his doctor, too, that he was in the best of hands and was being well looked after.

Joan had a long meeting with the medical staff, too. She had been instructed about his care, about possible complications and what she needed to do. She had been given a list of addresses and phone numbers, in case some help was needed. She had told Dr. Fellows in no uncertain words that all this talk was fiddlesticks. She knew how to treat her Marty, and they would be just fine. The last thing he needed was the suggested voluntary counsellor they had offered and which lived comparatively near. She had been warned about the meaning of this task and that she would take on a huge responsibility.

That had been complete nonsense to her ears. Marty was back and was coming home. The rest would sort itself out. The diet recommendation they had given her she hadn't even read in full. Good farm food, fresh produce and good old English cooking had revived every convalescent as far as she knew. Her cooking and the fresh Cornish air and a little bit of loving company from Louisa, that should do the trick.

Joan was honestly looking forward to spending her time with Martin, even though he still was a bit awkward in accepting help. She knew this side of him, he always had been like that and with the way he had been brought up, there was hardly a chance he could have felt differently.

Joan had been rather pleased when Martin had asked her if he could stay at her farm for a little while. For the first time in years she wouldn't be alone. She realised how much that meant to her.

Martin still stood in the farm yard contemplating the events of last week and the planning and decisions that had led to him standing here, feeling like a little boy on a visit to a distant relative and afraid to intrude into someone else's life.

Joan looked out of the farm house window. When she had parked her pickup, she had immediately made her way to the house. Martin had insisted that he would take his luggage himself and that she shouldn't bother. When Martin didn't turn up and the minutes passed by, Joan got worried, but a look out of the window revealed that he was still standing in the same spot. She knew how difficult things must be and that he could cope with situations best when he was left alone, when he could take his own time.

But there was a limit, she thought. However, it wasn't good for him to feel pushed or rushed. She went to the door and shouted over to him. "What's taking you so long? I've put the kettle on. Tea will be ready in a few minutes, if you'd like some."

Martin was brought back to reality by his aunt's invitation. He cleared his throat, straightened up and carried the suitcases inside.

"Welcome home, and all that." Joan greeted him cheerily. "Maybe you'd like some biscuits with your tea. I baked them myself this morning."

"Uh…I'd better take these upstairs, first."

"You can leave them here and do it later, if you like."

"I'd rather put them where they belong. I have to freshen up, too."

Joan wondered why he felt the need to freshen up. It had been the last thing he'd done in hospital and since then he had merely been sitting on the passenger seat, but Martin had always been meticulous about his hygiene routine.

"But I will help you carry these upstairs, and I won't accept any protest." Joan declared. She wanted to be there when Martin moved into his old room.

Martin grunted in return but didn't dare to say anything aloud. After all, he was a guest here.

Martin entered his room and stopped right on the threshold.

"Sorry, I thought…must have mistaken the doors…"

Joan smiled. "No, it's alright. This is your room."

"But…"

"We took the liberty of doing some redecoration. I hope the paint doesn't smell anymore. Louisa and I thought it looked a bit old-fashioned, stuffy and, well, maybe depressing. So we put some paint onto the walls, and some little touches here and there. Louisa has great ideas on how to improve living spaces without much cost and effort. She'll make a wonderful wife someday, to _someone._" Joan added with a knowing look. "And this woman can work, I tell you. With her help, we got this room done in no time."

The walls were re-painted to a light and pristine white, Joan had organised a new chair and table, more fitted for a tall man. The furniture before had been alright for the boy Martin Ellingham, but a grown man would have to struggle to squeeze his large frame to make it fit.

The table was moved directly to the window, to make the most use of the daylight, but there was also a new desk light.

Martin stood in the doorway and gasped. "Really, you shouldn't have. After all, I'm staying just a short time."

"Don't flatter yourself. I should have done it years ago. It's just that now I didn't have any reason to postpone it any longer." Joan said brusquely. "The tea should be ready now."

Martin put his luggage aside and visited the bathroom, then joined Joan in the kitchen.

"Sit down, take a biscuit."

"Uh, no, thanks."

Joan's hand landed on Martin's. "Good to have you back."

"About the room."

"Don't you like it?"

"Uh..huh. It's not that. It's fine. Nice. I mean." Joan thought that his condition certainly hadn't improved his conversational skills. "Uhm, I'd like to compensate you for part of the costs."

Joan withdrew her hand abruptly and sat back in her chair.

"Martin Ellingham! Are you trying to insult me?"

"Uhm, no, of course not, I just mean."

"Listen, boy. I am glad that you're here. I want to make your stay here a pleasurable one, and I don't want you to ruin your back or your eyesight from inappropriate furniture and insufficient light. I know you want to study here, and I know from experience that you often overdo it, until late at night. When you were little I tried to order you to bed to keep you from studying at night, but you only used the torch under your duvet to keep reading. I'm glad that your eyes didn't suffer from that. Now, I know it is of no use to keep you from doing it, nor do I feel it would be appropriate for me to interfere. Therefore, you've got to have the things you need."

"But the costs…"

"Weren't half as bad as I thought. Louisa is a whiz when it comes to finding cheap furniture. And don't worry, they hadn't been rotting away for ages in a barn either. That girl simply has had to learn to turn every penny since childhood."

"Right, uhm…maybe then I should pay her…"

"Don't you dare!" Joan barked at him. "That girl has done it to do something nice for you. Because she likes you, don't ask me why. Don't you dare to insult her by paying her for it! Martin, be sensitive, for once! If you want to do something for her, invite her to dinner, or cook something for her, or give her a little present. Anything, but no money!"

"But wouldn't that look as if…"

"…as if you were wooing her, and nothing could make that kid happier. Or do you think she did all this for you because she hoped for a refund from the NHS for restoring an out-of-use GP? If I hadn't stopped her she even would have taken a day off work just to pick you up from hospital today. By the way, she'll be around for tea. And if you say anything about money, then you will certainly be hoping that whoever did this to you would have made a better job of it – because then I'll wring your neck like I do with my chickens!"

"I must say!"

"Don't – you're not very good at it. And don't mind me. We two are of the same kind, I'm not easily offended, but be careful with Louisa. She's been through tough times."

"_She_'s been through tough times?"

"Well, we all have I suppose, but while everyone has been taking care of you, she has had to care for herself. Just look at the list they gave you in case you need help. A whole page of numbers and contacts to make sure there'll be someone for whatever you need. How many contact addresses for help did Louisa get, exactly? Nevertheless, she really loved doing the best she could to make you comfortable. So, _please_, show her that you do appreciate what she's doing."

So, Martin settled into his old room at the farm, enjoying the wonderful views and having guidance and company in Joan. He soon got into his routine of rising early, sharing breakfast with Joan, who had already minded the chickens by that time, studying a bit, then doing some housework, having a meal with Joan, then taking his exercise and maybe a little walk along the cliffs, before he went back to his books. In the afternoon, Louisa generally would pop by after school. They would spend some time together and then the three would have a light meal together. Sometimes, Joan and Louisa insisted that Martin and Joan would pick Louisa up from work to do something in the village. If Martin had it his way, he would turn into a true recluse, always excusing himself with the tight schedule he had.

After they came home or Louisa had left, he would withdraw to his room to study more. There was no fixed time when he would stop working, as this depended on the workload he had planned to get done that day and his state of mind. If he went to bed before he was truly exhausted, he would turn and toss and then finally fallen asleep, soon those nightmares would wake him up again. It was only when he could hardly keep his eyes open anymore before finally slumping into bed that his sleep was deep enough to withstand those dreams.

While Martin was working frantically in his room upstairs, Joan would usually sit in her living room for a bit, reading the papers or watching telly, usually dozing off after the long day's work. Whenever she came upstairs to go to bed, she could see light shining underneath the door of Martin's room. Then she would sigh, shake her head, shuffle towards the bathroom and then into bed.

One night Joan woke during the night because she needed the loo. Trudging along the hallway she noticed with her half-closed eyes that there was still the light on in Martin's room. She had been determined not to interfere with the way he organised his day, but enough is enough. On her way back to her room, she stopped at Martin's door. She couldn't hear a sound from within. She was struggling if she should go in or just go back to bed, and if she wanted to go in, should she knock, or had he fallen asleep before he could have switched off the lights and she would just wake him?

Joan's curiosity got the better of her, so, not to disturb him in case he had fallen asleep, she quietly entered the room.

Martin was still sitting at his desk, piles of books and the laptop strewn around and he was picking up book after book, obviously searching for something.

The clock in his room revealed that it was almost two in the morning.

Joan stopped a moment, then slowly approached Martin from behind. He was so engrossed in his studies that he hadn't noticed her yet. When she reached his chair, she placed her rugged hand on his shoulder. He was still in his suit and had only taken the liberty to take his jacket off.

He jumped in his seat feeling his aunt's hand.

"Did I make you jump? Sorry."

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just saw that the light was still on."

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I needed the bathroom. Besides, I wanted to ask you exactly the same."

"I just want to finish this chapter."

"Marty, don't overdo it."

"The exam will be soon."

Martin turned back towards his books, leaving Joan standing behind him. She ruffled his hair, which made him turn around.

"What?"

Joan smiled at him.

"What?" He repeated even more irritated. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry Marty, I've gone astray on memory lane."

"_What?_" Martin couldn't make head or tale of it.

Joan sat down heavily on his bed, tilted her head and looked at him.

"See, when you were a boy and were here on holidays, I often found you engrossed in your books in this room way past your bedtime. It was always the same as now – you were eager to prepare for the next exam. You always worked ridiculously hard and I suppose my brother is responsible for the pressure you felt."

"Mostly your eyes were red, like now, and you were extremely tired, just as you look now, and I warned you that the lights would be out in 15 minutes, otherwise…"

"Otherwise?"

"Phil always checked about 20 minutes later if you'd really gone to bed. Mostly you were already fast asleep, but occasionally you were working so intensely, you couldn't stop. Phil then would pick you up, just straight from the chair. You were protesting and struggling, but you didn't stand a chance against my Phil. He then would put you into bed and cover you, sometimes he had to take a book out of your hand first, and then he kissed you goodnight. He always came back to bed smiling. '_Marty will be a top shot one day, remember my words. He's a tough little fellow and he's got it in him.'_ He used to muse."

Joan slapped her hands on her thighs and got up with a sigh. "Well, even Phil wouldn't be able to put you to bed now." She patted his shoulder. "Don't be too long."

Shuffling out, she sighed "Ah, Phil."

_To be continued…_


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Life had settled nicely on Havenhurst farm. Martin also finally had something that he'd needed most – a routine. A day filled with tasks. He had something to do from early in the morning until late at night. He was even close to his first step which would mean some real progress. He had a date for his driving test.

Louisa tried to come everyday. One day she came a bit earlier than usual. Martin was still having his driving lesson so Louisa gladly accepted the cuppa offered by Joan to make waiting more pleasurable.

"So when will Martin be back?"

"Driving lessons had to start a bit later today. There were some delays during the lessons before. So he won't be back within the next hour or so.

Louisa looked at her cup. "Maybe that's good."

"What do you mean?"

"How is he?"

"What kind of question is that? You meet him daily."

"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not sure."

"Ask him, he's capable of speaking for himself."

"Oh Joan, great idea. It really never crossed my mind. Thanks for the valuable advice."

"You're welcome." Joan mused.

"Do you really think I haven't asked him?"

"So?"

"He just keeps telling me about the status of his driving lessons and how well his studies are proceeding. This is not exactly what I wanted to hear. Do you really think he tells me how he is? How he's feeling?"

"And you do think he's talking to me about it?"

"Well, I hoped so, at least."

"No, Louisa, he isn't the one to talk about such things."

"And what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Oh, come on! You're living in the same house. You must notice how he's acting. Especially you. I bet he doesn't have to tell you everything for you to notice."

Joan thought for a moment. Louisa was concerned about Martin. She had a right to be. Martin was a very private person and would never tell Louisa what she wanted to know. Did she have any right to give away any information? Would it be right to tell Louisa that she had found him working most nights until the early hours? Would it be right to tell Louisa that she had been woken up by him screaming in his sleep, tormented by some nightmare? Would it be right to tell Louisa how she often had gone over to his room, finding him tossing and turning, whimpering and groaning in his sleep, until she couldn't bear it any longer and softly woken him? Would it be right to tell her about his confusion during these moments, his fear, and how she had comforted him, until he realised where he was and what she was doing and then withdrew ashamed?

"Sorry, Louisa, but you've got to ask him. He is the only one who can tell you."

"Right." Louisa was a bit miffed at first, but after taking another sip from her cup, realised that Joan was right. Then she repeated in a more affirmative tone. "Right. But maybe you can tell me how his health is progressing. When I ask him, he just says '_Fine_'."

"He's getting stronger. He's getting fitter. He doesn't have any problems any more with his walks and such. So, yes, he's doing fine, I'd say."

"He looks tired, though."

"He is working quite hard to get back on track. So I suppose it's taking its toll a bit."

"His studies, you mean?"

"Sure."

"What about…" Louisa's voice trailed off.

"About what?"

"Well, what I mean…is he doing his exercises?"

"He follows his instructions quite meticulously."

"Also the ones for his memory?"

"Oh, that's what you mean. Well, Martin never was much for the past."

"Maybe, but there is a difference if you chose to ignore your past and don't dwell on that too much or if you can't remember it."

"I suppose Martin doesn't regard this aspect as so important as getting fit again and regaining his ability to work."

"So no progress?"

Joan shook her head. "I tried to persuade him to go through the family album with me, thinking that maybe that would trigger something, but he thought it '_a waste of time'_. "

"And you did let it rest then?"

"Louisa, he has to want to remember, otherwise it won't be of any use anyhow. He has to do it at his own pace. I can't push him."

"It's just, it seems to me he doesn't do anything for this side of his health at all. I can't imagine that being good for him. It seems he just tries to look ahead. As if everything would be well if he could just open his surgery again."

Joan looked at Louisa. "Did you really expect anything else? He needs his job. That is his prime priority. Everything else has to take a step back, as it has always been."

"But that's madness! He can't just pretend nothing has happened?"

"He can try."

"And what about his cottage? Has he gone there already? I offered the last time we were in the village to take him there, but he brushed me off."

"Not that I know of."

"I simply don't understand him. Wouldn't you want to know how you've lived? And he has to face it at some point. Especially as Chris Parsons has informed me that the locum will come in three weeks. Martin really should check his surgery before that, to make sure it is in full working order and his private things are out of the way. I suppose it could do with a bit of cleaning again, too."

"Does Martin know?"

"What?"

"About the locum."

"No, Chris just called me this morning. I wanted to tell Martin today, I just haven't had the chance yet."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

So Martin's quiet routine was disrupted by the news of his locum's arrival. He had to face handing over the surgery sooner rather than later.

When Louisa told him the news he tried to keep his composure. His face only showed the shock for a second, but then he took the news quietly.

Nevertheless, he couldn't get the imminent arrival out of his head. He was painfully aware of the necessity to clean the place of his private things before someone else could use it. He was also painfully aware that this meant he had to go there and inspect his home. He pondered if he should ask Joan or Louisa to come with him under the pretext of helping him to clean the place or if he'd rather be on his own.

Louisa and Joan waited for him to tackle this subject, but he kept quiet and stopped any attempt at bringing up the subject.

About a week after Louisa has brought this news, she was doing her shopping after work. She was paying at the grocers, when Bert came in.

"Ah, Louisa," he puffed, "good to see you…and good to see the Doc back in the village."

"Ehm, yes, just that he isn't really in the village very often, is he?"

"That's why I was so astonished to see him go into his surgery. Just like ol' times, eh?"

Louisa couldn't believe her ears. Martin had gone into his surgery? Did Joan know about this? Would he need some help?

Louisa hurriedly shuffled together her shopping and hurried out, mumbling her thanks to Bert while rushing past him.

Louisa knocked on the front door of the surgery, but didn't get any response. She tried the door and it was unlocked. She peeked in. No sign of Martin so far. She came in looking around and trying to catch a sound to locate him. She went into the waiting area. Now she could hear sounds coming from the kitchen.

She turned towards it, but stopped in the doorway leading towards it, watching Martin from afar. He was inspecting his own kitchen. He opened drawers, inspected their contents, murmured something, then closed them again. He checked the cupboards and the functionality of his appliances.

"Seems to be functional so far," she heard him say to himself, "the only problem I see is…Louisa?"

"So the only problem you see is me?"

"Oh…uhm…no, of course not, but what are you doing here?"

"The door was open."

"Ehm…yes, it was."

"And thanks to Bert I knew that I would find you here."

"Ah!" Martin seemed annoyed.

"You didn't think you could sneak into your place without anyone noticing it?"

"I hoped I could."

"I was standing there like an idiot! Why didn't you tell me?"

Martin's patience was wearing thin.

"Oh, I beg your pardon! I didn't know I needed your approval to go to my cottage. Where did you get the exclusive rights on all my actions? I'd really like to know, maybe I can buy them back? Or would I have to negotiate with you about that? Then I surely wouldn't stand a chance, the way you regard me as your personal property!"

Louisa listened in shock. He'd hit a sore spot. What had she been thinking? Of course he had any right to go to his cottage whenever it pleased him. What was she doing to him? He had any right to be angry with her. It was just that she had hoped she might have gained more of his trust during the last weeks. She had been disappointed to find out about his actions from someone else. But then, it wasn't Martin's fault that Bert knew. It's not that he had confided in Bert and not in her. Bert simply was at the right place at the right time, as always, it seemed.

She nervously bit her lip.

"Sorry. That was uncalled for, I'm afraid. You'd rather want me to go?"

Martin looked at her for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I don't know why you should want to stay, but you can. If you want to, that is."

"Thanks."

He kept inspecting his cottage, without paying any attention to Louisa, who watched him silently. It was painful to watch his clumsy attempts to find out about himself.

He skipped through the books and journals resting in his living area.

"That's interesting…" he murmured.

"Oh Martin, please stop that!" Louisa couldn't stand it any longer.

Martin looked at her puzzled. "What?"

"It's so…_normal_…to see you here, here where you belong, but you're acting _weird_."

"Weird?"

"Yes, all this looking and searching and exploring. Here, where you should feel at home."

Martin frowned. "Do I need to remind you…"

"Sorry, I'm really sorry. I should have gone. I…I don't think I can stand this." Louisa turned away, wiping tears from her eyes.

Martin stood nailed to the spot in complete amazement.

"You are crying." Martin stated bluntly.

"Yeah, I know." Louisa sniffed.

"Why?"

"Oh, I…I don't know. I…it's so easy to forget what you've gone through. You act so _normal_ at Joan's. It was just…seeing you here, at home…but not at home. It just didn't feel right watching you inspecting everything carefully."

"How do you suppose I can find out what needs to be done before my locum arrives?"

"Yes, you're right. Of course you're right."

"So what is the problem?"

"Just leave me alone a bit. I'll be OK."

Martin had come nearer and was facing Louisa now just inches away.

_To be continued…_


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Martin felt awkward. He had made her cry without wanting to. He felt guilty, but didn't know why. It wasn't his fault.

He tentatively reached out for her and brushed away some tears.

That was it, for Louisa. She couldn't compose herself anymore. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. She sobbed with her head against his chest.

Martin was standing stiff. He was shocked. He didn't know what to do. This was all wrong. He held his arms up behind her back, afraid to touch her, afraid to return the hug. Finally, the crying was too much for him and he clumsily patted Louisa's back.

It took some time before Louisa could compose herself. When the crying fit stopped, she realised that she was in Martin's close embrace. She realised she felt darn comfortable in his arms. She was reminded why she was putting so much effort into his well-being.

Louisa stayed in that embrace longer than it would have been necessary, as there was no need for comfort anymore.

Finally, Martin realised she wasn't crying anymore. He loosened his grip.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"What for?"

"The hug. I needed that."

"Uhm…right."

Louisa tried to stroke him, touch him. He nervously brushed her hands away. How many hands did she have exactly? There must have been more than two, surely, as his two hands weren't enough to keep hers at bay. There seemed to be her hands all over him. Finally he managed to grab both of her hands firmly and held them defensively between them, eyeing them cautiously.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought it was obvious."

"Oh…I…"

"Have you finished your inspection of the cottage?"

"We can go, if you like."

"Not if you haven't finished. Have you been upstairs?"

"Upstairs? Why upstairs? What's upstairs?" He asked with panic in his voice.

"I don't know, I've never been there. I just guessed you must have a bedroom somewhere."

"But I'm not tired."

"That's what I was hoping."

Martin looked around, and still holding her hands tightly, he pointed towards the kitchen table. "Let's sit down and talk about it quietly."

"Oh Martin! Is the thought of me going upstairs with you really so appalling to you?"

He placed her at one side and took a seat opposite her.

"This table sure knows how to be in the way." Louisa sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just a thought. I just remembered that this table has had good practise at being in the way."

"Yes, Louisa. _You_ remember, and that's just the point."

"Martin, for what I have in mind you don't have to remember anything. Between us, there is nothing worth remembering. It would be a new page in a new book."

"Please understand. I can't make…eeehhh….such an important step, when I know nothing about myself. I have to know my past."

She reached over and placed her hand on his, which he looked down at alarmed. "I'm not the least bit interested in the past. It's the future that worries me. _Our_ future, if there would ever be one."

"What kind of future would that be if I can't be certain about me, about my past? The whole thing can go off like a bomb, lying somewhere unbeknown to me because I can't remember, and when I step onto it, the whole thing will go bust. I can't risk that. Can't you see?"

"Oh, Martin!" She patted his hands slightly. "I just wish you weren't so honourable. You've forgotten so much. Why can't you forget your morals just for once?"

"You can't mean that. That's what humans are like. We would be mere animals without them."

"To be honest, I long to see the more animalistic side of you. If you have one at all, that is."

Martin just looked over at her in that special way he saved just for her.

Louisa was struggling with herself whether she should tell him, in no uncertain terms, what she wanted of him, how she felt about him. It had been so crystal clear when she thought he had disappeared forever. It had felt right to tell Joan on that evening months ago when Joan wanted to make her accept that Martin wasn't to come back. Now it was so difficult to say it to the man who was concerned by it the most. She took a deep breath.

"Martin, I think you probably won't like it, but I have to tell you how I feel about you. And don't you dare to say a single word before I have finished! Just sit and listen."

She got up and leant against the working table, arms crossed as she looked down at Martin, still sitting at the table, looking uncomfortable.

"What I feel for you is not friendship, and it's no innocent admiration. In fact, my feelings for you have grown so much that there is hardly anything innocent about them anymore."

"Don't think it's easy for me to tell you this, but I just remember a couple of months back, when Al had called the search for you off as they didn't know where to look anymore, and Joan came over to make me accept that you weren't coming back, that I had to stop expecting that you would turn up at any second. Overwhelmed by the grief I told her how I longed to be with you, feel your arms around me and that I had _nothing_ whatsoever to remember in that respect. I thought it only fair that you know too."

"Mind you, I didn't tell Joan as clearly as I have you, but in a way it doesn't make sense that I could tell her and shouldn't be able to tell you."

"Martin, you're a doctor. What can you prescribe against the emptiness I feel, the acute loneliness whenever I have to undress myself and go to bed alone? Do you know any remedy against the physically aching desire to feel your arms around me? Can you stop the fantasies and dreams? Is there any medical term for the unnerving habit of my brain to start to undress you in my imagination?"

Martin sat, very uneasy on his chair but Louisa kept talking, very calmly.

"When I thought you were…" she waved vaguely her hand "….well…_gone_…the pain inside took over completely. It didn't seem to make any sense to eat or sleep. I could hardly sleep at all, because I kept seeing you in my dreams, lying dead somewhere, or reaching out for help and I couldn't come to you. _If_ I managed to get some sleep at all I always woke up screaming. My life had lost its centre, its meaning. It was terrifying to realise how much you had come to mean to me when there didn't seem to be any realistic chance that I could do anything about it ever."

"When I finally found you, I thought we had been given a second chance to make things work. To be honest, since you've been back we get along better than we ever had. Partly because you're not so aloof and a bit less rude, maybe because you _have_ to rely on us. Partly because I'm a bit more patient, as I know now how it feels when you're not around."

"I really hoped that we would be getting somewhere, but in all these months we're not any closer to any intimate relationship. Martin, for me it is not enough to have meals together, chat, organise things and meet for a couple of hours. I want _more_. I want all of you."

"Don't look so scared. You are perfectly safe. I don't have the physical strength to force myself onto you. I don't know that if I had been the stronger one whether I might try to force you, but being as it is, I know I don't stand a chance. So your chastity belt will remain unbroken. I bet it is adhered to you by now. Is there a key to it? Is there a possibility of ever unlocking it, unlocking you? Or do I really have to try to break the lock violently at some point?"

"Or maybe you're really asexual? Are you really as uninterested in sex as you appear to be? Or is something inside you driving you mad and stirring you up, and you have just built a huge wall around it to imprison it?"

Louisa sat down at the table again, facing him. She reached under the table and placed her hand on his thigh "Tell me, Martin, does it do anything to you if I do this?" She started to stroke it, running her fingernails over the fabric of his trousers. Martin gulped. "Does this leave you cold?"

He took her hand firmly. "Please, stop it."

"Why, Martin? Because it makes you realise that you are a man? A man with simple but very important urges? Can't you risk losing control? I'm here, with you, I can protect you. You don't have to shy away, I won't hurt you. Can't you trust me enough by now to let your defences down?"

"I can see in your face that it _did not_ leave you cold when I touched you. Oh, Martin! How I long to touch you! And I mean you, not this bloody fabric of your trousers, separated by this damn table that's always in the way somehow. I want your skin next to mine, rubbing and stroking each other at the most intimate places, feeling safe in your embrace, locked in your arms, my head on your bare chest. Skin to skin. No defences. I want to interlink my body with yours until we can't tell where your body ends and mine begins!"

"Louisa, please stop." He got up abruptly and turned away, steadying himself against the cupboard. "I can't listen to this for a second longer."

Louisa got up and leaned herself against his back, which he had turned towards her. She wrapped her arms around him, placing her palms on his chest – well at least on the suit coat above the shirt above his chest. "Why, Martin? Because you find it so appalling?"

He brusquely turned around, hurting her a bit as she couldn't remove her arms quickly enough. He glared down at her.

"Just stop it!" He exclaimed with a cracked voice. "You know darn well that I don't find you appalling! Uhum… I…."

"So why don't you climb up these bloody stairs with me!" Louisa shouted at him, desperate now.

"I can't!"

"What do you mean? You mean you cannot….?" She looked down at him, where the part was she longed for so much.

"Don't be bloody ridiculous." He retorted indignantly. "Ahhh, this whole conversation is disgusting."

"Well, if you're physically able, then I simply don't see why you bloody can't! We're both over 18, considerably so. There is no dependency. We would do it of our own free will. We are both unattached, unfortunately for far too long. There is _no_ good reason not to sleep together whatsoever!" Louisa had a desire to smash something, but there was nothing on the table that she could brush away. So she grabbed a chair, lifted it and slammed it back on the floor.

Martin heard a car outside.

"Oh, my driving lessons. I've got to go!" He said nervously. "Make sure everything's locked." He rushed out.

"Yes Martin, everything will be locked up. As usual."

_To be continued…_


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

When Martin was back _home_ that evening at the farm, Joan noticed that her nephew was even more unapproachable than usual. It was quite obvious that something had upset him during the day. As she knew he had spent the day with Louisa exploring his own cottage, she was pretty sure something between them was not right. Inquiries about the cottage and how the day had been fell on deaf ears. When dinner was ready, Martin sat down and tucked into his meal in silence. Joan observed him sceptically. As soon as the meal was finished, Martin got up.

"I'm off." He headed towards the stairs.

"What do you mean _you're off'_? Whereto?"

"Bed."

"But Marty, it's just shortly past seven!"

"Is a man not allowed to have an early night?" He grumbled.

"Sure, but only if it's not an excuse for hiding away. Come on, spill it – what have you done?"

"What do you mean? What should I have done? I've done nothing!" Martin was alarmed.

"Don't give me that! You've been acting odd the whole evening, and now you just want to escape to your room. Sit down and let's talk."

"Surely not. I'm off to bed."

"Shall I call Louisa and ask her what happened? I bet she needs my comfort more than you do."

Martin looked sheepishly around.

"Oh Marty! Can't you treat her decently for once? After all the girl has done for you?"

"I didn't ask her to."

"No, you didn't, but you should have seen how desperate she was when she thought she had lost you. The poor girl was devastated. Completely crushed. I was truly worried about her. You can't blame her when she tries to do something for you now that she has a chance? Besides, you would have been pretty lost without her. At least, you can show her some kindness."

"So I am to blame that she practically forced me to let her help? That was her choice. I didn't want it all along. I will not pay the price for something I haven't ordered!" His voice cracked and he was on the verge of losing control over his emotions. Joan knew him too well not to notice.

"But Marty? Sit down and tell me what happened."

"Uuuhhmm"

Joan shepherded her reluctant nephew towards the chair and pushed the chair against his legs so that he practically fell onto the seat.

"Now talk!" Joan ordered. Martin realised that he was defeated, but was still determined not to give anything away.

"There was nothing."

"You hurt her, didn't you?"

"Why always me? Why should I always be the guilty party?"

"Because it's the most likely guess. OK, just _presuming_ it was Louisa's fault – what did she do?"

"Nothing."

"Oh Marty! Please, don't hurt her. She's gone through enough because of you."

"Now I am also to blame for…for…whatever happened?"

"Of course not. No one says so. You must admit though that she couldn't have been more helpful and understanding. It's thanks to her that you have made such good progress, but it's not just about you, Marty. Did you ever think about her? What she has been through? She was almost equally damaged by this whole affair."

"Oh yes, then tell me what this _whole affair_ was? If you can compare our situation, then you must certainly know about it!"

"Don't be silly, Marty! That's just not the point."

"So what's the point?"

"After all she's done for you, after all that she feels for you – just show her a bit of kindness, for heaven's sake!"

"Ha!" Martin spat out a bitter laugh. "Then ask Louisa if she would like _that_! _Kindness_!"

"It's better than nothing, Marty!"

Martin looked indignantly around and sighed. "Bloody heck! What she _really_ wants I can't give! I _should_ not give!"

Joan stopped, looked mouth agape at her nephew. By his reaction, she could tell what Louisa had addressed. Then Joan smirked.

"And how do you feel about it?"

"About…what?" Martin asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Come on, Marty! It's written all over your face. Louisa's _confession_."

"Ehm…Uhm…about what?" Martin looked frantically around. Joan put her hands on his.

"Marty. I've known you since you were little. I've seen you when you'd wet yourself, when you'd been beaten up, when your parents punished you yet again, when you wished for something and couldn't get it. I've seen you in all possible and impossible situations. I know that you are deeply troubled now. Just tell me."

"Why…what…there is…" Martin stopped his attempts to deny it, as he could see that Joan knew anyway.

"Marty, I'm making it easier for you. I know that the poor girl is mad about you. Don't ask me why, but she is. I also know that she was in tears all the weeks that you were missing. I was _really_ worried about her. She simply couldn't grasp the fact that she might have lost you forever. She was sorry for all the unused opportunities. When you turned up, she was _so _happy that she could actually be of some help to you. I guess she doesn't expect any gratitude from you, as being with you, helping you is satisfying enough for her."

"But, Marty, this girl is besotted with you. She loves you completely. And now, tell me – what do you feel about her?"

"What can I feel? I've just known her for a few weeks."

"No, Martin. You've know her for years, and more importantly, she known you for several years – and longs for you. Did she tell you that today? Are you upset because of that?"

Martin looked away, wildly confused.

"Please tell me that you haven't said something stupid. Please tell me that you haven't been insensitive."

"Why is it me again? I haven't said anything!"

"Martin, look at me and tell me that you don't feel anything for her. I know you're not good at lying. So look at me and tell me that you don't love her."

Martin looked away. Joan got up abruptly and hit the table with both her fists. "You stupid boy! She's mad about you, you're mad about her. What else do you want?"

"But can't you see that it won't do any good?" Martin jumped from his chair and exclaimed in despair, then slumped back on his seat, burying his face in his hands. Joan came over and rubbed his back.

"Poor boy. Come on, Marty. Why do you think it wouldn't work?"

Martin looked up to his aunt, his eyes slightly red. "Do I really have to spell it for you? Isn't it obvious?"

Joan took his head and pressed it against her chest, stroking his hair reassuringly.

"Well, I can't see why it shouldn't work. She loves you, you love her – that's all that counts, isn't it? She needs you so desperately."

"Hmph."

Joan rocked her nephew, like she had done when he had been a child and had been bullied by other children. After a while, Martin spoke into her chest.

"Can't you see it wouldn't work? Louisa is so…so…" he looked up to his aunt. "…so beautiful. So young. So vibrant. So…lively. So compassionate. So cheerful. She can have the best in life, a really good future. And then look at me?"

"What's wrong with you?" Martin looked at Joan in sheer shock.

"You know."

"There is nothing wrong with you that would prevent you from making her happy."

"But how can _I_ make her happy? I don't have a future…I don't even have a past. I would just drag her down."

"Marty, she loves _you_. Many men had been interested in her, and she really has tried to date some of them, but as long as I've known her – and I've known her for most of her life – she had never thrown herself into any relationship as she has with you. I don't know what she sees in you, but it has stood the test of time, despite all the disappointments, insults, insensitivities and grief you've brought her. Looking at you, I can tell that you are crazy about her, too. So maybe even if you can't make her happy, maybe she can stop you being unhappy."

"That wouldn't be fair to her. She deserves better. Better than me. I'm damaged goods."

Joan squeezed her nephew harder. "Oh Marty! If I could just lay my hands on your _lovely_ father."

"He's not responsible for what happened to me?"

"Oh, do you think the damage just lies in whatever happened to you this year? You were _damaged goods_ before you disappeared. Actually, when Louisa first told me you couldn't remember anything, I was almost a bit relieved." Martin looked at his aunt in sheer astonishment. "Yes, Marty. I was almost happy for you, glad that you would be free from your horrible past, acquitted from the verdict of having such unloving parents. I didn't tell you before, because I thought you had enough to put up with for the time being, but I think you've got to know now."

"In a way I can understand that your brain jumped at the opportunity to erase the past. You don't have many pleasant things to remember. All in all, you've had a rather miserable life. Your parents neglected you and mistreated you. You were pretty much alone and rejected all your life. It was a blessing really that you'd been given the mercy to forget."

"But that's the irony, isn't it? If you forget your past, you don't know what a blessing it is, not to know. I suppose if you knew your past and had an option to forget it, you would have taken it. So _if_ you remember it, you'd wish you could forget, but if you _don't_ remember, then you would also have forgotten that you wanted to forget and then wish to remember, but if you did remember, then you'd know what you wanted to forget. It's very confusing."

"So you always were a rather miserable bugger, and Louisa didn't care, and I think she's your only chance of happiness. Grab the opportunity! Be selfish for her sake!"

Martin stood up. "I can't do that. I can't bind her to me when I know it wouldn't be good for her. I can't ruin her life." He said sadly, then, finally, climbed up the stairs.

Joan sat down at the kitchen table and shook her head. That stupid boy. Only he could manage to make _two_ people unhappy just by being too considerate. If she just knew how she could make things work.

Upstairs, Martin stared out of the window in the growing darkness of his room. He was so sorry that he wasn't _Mr. Right_ for this beautiful woman, but they were too different. She was too good for him. He couldn't be responsible for making her life miserable. With a heavy heart he stood there and watched the stormy sea.

In Portwenn, Louisa stared out at the sea from her little balcony. She cursed herself for having made a fool of herself. When Martin had re-appeared she had sworn not to let their relationship go down the drain again. She knew now how valuable time was. She didn't want to waste any more. But what can you do if your love interest doesn't play along. She didn't know how to face him again after her confession. Had it been worth the try? She didn't know, but she also didn't know what else to do.

_To be continued…_


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Louisa stopped dropping by every day. Joan mentioned it to Martin and questioned him about what he planned to do about it.

"Her choice."

"Oh, come on. You're not so indifferent about it! Don't tell me you don't care!"

"So what am I supposed to do? Hike into the village and drag Louisa out here?"

"May I inform you that the telephone was invented more than a hundred years ago? In case you haven't noticed yet, it's just over there, unless you want to use your mobile which is in your chest pocket."

"What good would that do? I noticed that you've called her several times."

"She said she was too busy."

"There, you see."

"Oh, Marty! Even you must see that this is just a lame excuse!"

Martin ignored her.

"You know that the two of you have to get it sorted at one point. Better to clear the air as soon as possible."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, you know pretty well. The other day… You two have to sort it out."

"Hmph." Martin tried to disappear upstairs.

"You can't run away forever, Marty. You might just as well call her now."

"I bet you've said everything you thought was necessary."

"Yes, I did, but maybe Louisa wants to hear those things from you?"

"There is nothing I could tell her."

And up he went to continue his studies.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Hello?"

"Louisa, it's me, Joan."

"Oh, what is it?"

"You've got to talk with Martin at some point. You two have to get yourselves sorted."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Stop being just as difficult as my nephew. You two are grown up. Handle this affair as such."

"If we're supposed be so adult about it, why are you calling for Martin? Isn't he grown up enough to make the call himself? He has my number."

"Yes, and he knows that you've stopped visiting from one day to the next. And he knows that you told me that you're too busy. And he respects your decision."

"So?"

"So – you stopped coming, and you have to take the first step to come back."

"If he thought I should he would tell me."

"You know darn well he wouldn't, not in a million years."

"His choice."

Joan groaned.

"What?"

"You two are just…ah!"

"We are what?"

"Too much alike for your own good."

"I hardly think so."

"At least you both came up with the same conclusion that it is the choice of the other party. Very convenient if you don't want to make the first step."

"Don't you think that I've already gone a step too far? Sorry, but I don't think it is a good idea to talk to Martin right now."

"And when do you suppose will be the right moment? You live in the same village. You can't avoid meeting each other at some point."

There was no response from the other end of the line, so Joan continued.

"Louisa, you didn't think about the right moment when you made your confession to Martin either."

"So it's my fault. Of course, you must be on his side.."

"That's nonsense, and you know it. I'm on nobody's side. I admire your guts. It was what you felt and you told him. At least I suppose that's how it was. Marty didn't tell me exactly why he was so upset, but by the way he reacted, it could only have been about feelings. He never was able to handle those. So, did you think it was the right moment for a talk like that then?"

"Obviously not, and I think I've embarrassed myself enough. So I better keep out of this. He's not interested. Fine. I accept that."

"Don't be silly. He wouldn't have been so upset if he wasn't interested. But do you think it would have been the right time for him to accept your love?"

"I can't see that he ever thought the time was right, and I suppose he never will."

"He has to be able to offer you something. He can't just be on the receiving end."

"But…"

"No, let me finish. He never was the kind of person to accept help, and he's certainly never asked for any. So being in the position to have to accept help is…well, humiliating, I suppose."

"But…"

"No, wait. I know it's nonsense. It is perfectly alright to accept help. I know that, you know that. Martin does _not _know that, and just right now, when he feels guilty for bothering you so much with his affairs, you come along and you tell him how you feel about him."

"He's not in a position to send you away, because he relies on you. He's not in a position to accept your feelings, because…he relies on you. He won't be able to accept your love until he is able to live his own life, until he can do something useful again, until he can provide for you…"

"That's nonsense. I don't need anyone to provide for me."

"I do know that, Louisa, and I don't want to give the impression that I thought it possible even for a second that you'd be interested in Marty because of his money. But _he_ has to know that he _could_ provide for you. That he can give you something back. You know that don't you?"

"But he will. It's just a matter of time and the way he throws himself into work it will be sooner rather than later."

"So wait for him. Wait until he is back in his job. Maybe he will be able to accept your feelings then. But don't desert him now, just because he isn't ready yet."

"I know you mean well, but I hardly think it'll be a good idea for me to pester him again any time soon. I can't take back what I've said, and…to be honest, it would be awkward. See you."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At the end of the week, Joan went into the village to do her deliveries and her pickup passed Louisa. Joan stopped and lowered the window.

"Hello Louisa, how is everything?"

"Good. And on the farm?"

"The silliness of the two of you has put me in a tough position, so thanks very much."

"Sorry, I don't think…"

"Thanks to you, Martin is reluctant to go into village and therefore to go into his cottage, to prepare everything for the arrival for his locum. It has to be done, but he really is funny about it. So I had to offer to help him. He just has me now, hasn't he? So I offered to come tomorrow morning to get the place ready."

"Look, I'm sorry, but…"

"No explanation necessary. You do what you think you have to do. It's not your problem. We'll make it, no worries."

Joan drove off.

The conversation left a huge burden on Louisa. She felt guilty, again. She had started this whole project to help Martin and Joan, and now she had abandoned them. Joan couldn't do all this by herself. It would be too much. Louisa, however, couldn't face Martin right now. At least she owed it to Joan to help her with clearing the surgery.

The next morning was a Saturday, so Louisa didn't have to go to school. After breakfast, she walked up Roscarrock Hill, determined to help Joan, whether she liked it or not. When Louisa arrived, she didn't see the pickup. So she waited in front of the surgery.

By habit, she walked round the corner to the back door. Just then, Martin stepped out, carrying two garbage bags. Seeing her, he dropped both bags.

"Louisa?"

"Martin! What are _you _doing here?"

"What do you think? I've got to clean my surgery at one point." Martin tried to gather the rubbish from the floor.

"Yes, Joan told me that the place needed to be cleaned today, but I thought you were reluctant to do it?"

"Well, how would you feel if you had to clear your place so that someone else could take over – temporarily."

"Uhm, right. I…I thought I could help."

Martin raised an eyebrow.

"With the cleaning, I mean. Gosh, I…I thought Joan would be here alone. I…really…."

"Joan? You really thought I'd let Joan clean this place?"

"Well, she said she offered…"

"She offered, but I didn't want her to. She has enough to do on her farm."

"So Joan's not here at all."

"Of course not! I can't have her do all the work."

"No. Of course not. Silly of me. But I met Joan yesterday and she told…me…wait a minute!" Louisa suddenly realised what Joan had been up to. "She's got a nerve! Telling me all this…rubbish… No, wait. Actually, everything she said was true, but she certainly put it in a way to lead me completely up the wrong path!"

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"Joan. She wanted us to meet here. That's why she told me about it. Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't know. I just realised now. I wouldn't have come if I'd known you were here."

"Of course you wouldn't." Martin didn't dare to make eye contact but stood foolishly with his rubbish in hands.

"Look, about the other day – I am really sorry. It was foolish of me to talk to you like that. I don't know what got into me. I hope you can accept my apologies?"

Martin cleared his throat.

"My timing wasn't so good, I'm really sorry that I added this turmoil on top of anything else."

"So you weren't serious about it?" Martin asked tentatively.

"Well, I can't say that I didn't mean what I said. Sorry, Martin, I can't. But I shouldn't have burst it out like that. I wasn't in my right mind, I suppose. So sorry."

Louisa bit her lip nervously, waiting for Martin's response.

Martin looked at her. He didn't know what to say. He was still deeply troubled about what she had told him, how she had acted, and he certainly didn't want a repeat performance.

"So what do you say, hm? Is it OK for you if I help you, and maybe start visiting again?"

"To achieve what?"

"Nothing, Martin, I want to achieve nothing. I just want to help, really. In fact, I like being with you…" Martin looked at her panicky, so Louisa quickly added. "As friends. Maybe?"

"Look, I'm really sorry, but I don't think right now it is a good idea to…to…I mean, I've got to get myself sorted. I got to get back to my job. I've got dozens of things to do. I can't…really…"

"No, Martin! I don't expect you to. You're absolutely right. It was so foolish of me. Like a hormone-ridden teenager. I really don't know what got into me. But _maybe_, if you got yourself sorted, if you're back in your job, if you have reassembled your life – do you think it might be possible that we talk about it again, maybe? Or are you not interested at all?"

Martin looked uncomfortable.

"Well, I just want to know if I have to bury my hopes indefinitely or maybe just wait a bit more. I've waited so long…"

"I really can't make any decisions about that right now, I'm sorry. I do have to concentrate at putting my life together. Maybe…if…"

"So it's not a definite _no way_?"

"Just give me some time."

"I will do that, Martin, I will. So would you mind if I'd come to the farm again after work?"

"I think Joan would like it."

"And you? Would you like it, too?"

"Ehm, actually…I…" Martin stuttered, and finally added in a mere whisper. "Yes."

"Alright. Good. I missed that, actually. So back together as friends?"

Martin had got rid of the rubbish by now and clumsily held one hand towards her. "Friends."

"Great! So can I come in, now?"

"What for?" Martin asked in pure panic.

"I thought I could do the cleaning downstairs. That's difficult from the outside."

"Oh, right, of course." Martin pointed towards the door.

They worked just fine together, Martin sorting everything out and getting his private stuff out of the way, while Louisa started cleaning.

When Joan picked Martin up in the late afternoon she smiled to herself that her little trick had worked just fine.

_To be continue…_


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Martin was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. He would be picked up in 25 minutes and if everything went fine, he'd be a lot more independent in an hour and a half.

His driving instructor had repeated over and over again that he shouldn't drive like someone who could drive, but like someone who wanted to pass the exam. There was nowhere he wanted to go, so it didn't matter in what time he'll get there. Take it slowly. Be patient. Don't explode if a bunch of sheep are blocking the road. Be grateful. They are giving you time where nothing can possibly go wrong and while this time passes, you'll getting closer and closer to your driving license. After all, he just had to behave for about 40 minutes, and then he could drive how he pleases.

He had passed the theory test earlier this week. He had arranged his driving instruction so that he could be dropped in Wadebridge in time for his exam. The multiple choice questions had been an insult to any average intelligence. The questions about what to do in an emergency had been especially painful, as he certainly wouldn't just do what was said in the boxes he had to tick. He was a doctor, after all.

Louisa had come to Wadebridge to pick him up after the test. Joan and Louisa really had to drive him around a lot lately.

Every week he had one or two appointments at Plymouth University. He had to be present for some practical courses. There was no way he could postpone them until he was completely motorised again. No matter how bad he felt about having to rely on others to get to and fro. He had checked on the internet for possible use of public transport, but around here the opportunities were ridiculously few.

But he could stop worrying now. Today, the time would end that he would need a driver. He would pass his exam, not passing simply wasn't an option, and then he could use his Lexus, which had been released from forensics a long time ago and had just been checked over by the local garage and was only waiting on its rightful owner to make full use of it again.

Later that afternoon, Martin was studying in his room. Joan was busy in the kitchen making some Chutneys for sale at the local grocer. Just as soon as she could have possibly come down to the farm, Louisa had come and was now knocking at the door. It took a moment before Joan opened the door, wiping her hand on a towel.

"Ah, nice you dropped by."

"How did it go? How is he?"

"Come in."

Louisa squeezed in. "Spill it! Has he passed?"

"I guess he'd better tell you himself." She went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted upstairs. "MARTY!"

"He'll probably need a moment. He simply can't tear himself away from his books." Joan shook her head. "Not that I can understand that. My parents almost had to tie me down for me to do my homework. Life happens outside of books."

Joan turned again to her pots and jars.

"Oh, Joan. Is it that bad?"

"I'm not going to say a word. That's his job." More impatiently she shouted. "MARTY! VISITOR FOR YOU!"

"YEAH, I'M COMING!"

"Good."

Louisa was on the edge of her seat, literally speaking. She was nervously playing with the bag she had with her. Finally Martin appeared on the stairs and Louisa immediately rushed towards him.

"How did it go?" She burst out. "I thought about you the whole morning. I kind of hoped you'd send me a message to tell me how it had gone, but no such luck." She added with a wry smile.

"What did you expect? No big deal. I'm not a complete moron."

"So you passed!"

"Sure. Pure formality."

Joan chuckled.

"WHAT?"

"Well, smooth sailing is different, isn't it?" Joan teased her nephew.

"But that had _nothing _to do with me!"

"Surely not, how can _you _be responsible?"

"I didn't instruct that stupid tourist group to go into the streets of Portwenn? You can't take photos and walk backwards in the middle of the street!"

Louisa felt she had to state the obvious. "Martin, there _is_ only the middle of the street in Portwenn."

"At least I could prove that I was capable of an emergency stop." Martin tried to save the situation.

"So that was good, wasn't it?" Louisa tried to see the problem.

"That was." Joan chimed in. "But I just had a chat with the instructor, who was kind enough to give Marty a lift. It's a pure miracle they even let Marty start to drive."

"That is _not_ true!"

"Oh, no, they were absolutely _thrilled_ that you gave them a lecture that simply identifying a number plate is by no means sufficient to prove adequate eye sight."

"It's not my fault that they obviously believe that being able to find your own car makes you also capable of driving it. I just informed them that there are all sorts of conditions where you can adapt your behaviour so that you can identify objects within a small focus, but you have such a limited visual field that you are practically unable to judge a complex situation such as you have to do when you're driving!"

Louisa sighed. Martin starting a lecture before his exam made it truly a miracle that he obviously had passed. Maybe the fates had been kind enough for once to send an examiner with either superhuman patience or a great sense of humour.

"But that wasn't all, was it? Tell Louisa your answer when they asked you the vehicle safety questions. This girl hasn't had a good laugh in a long time."

"But that was absolutely pointless!" Martin protested.

"_What_ was pointless?" Louisa asked quite annoyed.

"Why should _I_ tell them how to find out if the oil level in their car is alright and even do the check for them? If they need an MOT, they should go to the garage!"

"Martin, this is part of the regulation. They have to check these things. Besides, checking the oil isn't really rocket science, is it? I do it regularly on my car." Louisa couldn't really see any point in making such a fuss about nothing.

"You might well do, but I didn't apply for a job as a mechanic. I simply want to be allowed to drive that bloody car."

"So go on, Marty, tell Louisa your answer." Joan egged Martin on.

"I really don't know what should be so amusing about that?" Martin didn't find anything odd or unreasonable in the way he had acted.

"OK, I'll do it." Joan offered and ignored the bubbling mass in the pot for a moment to turn around to Louisa. "Marty took out his mobile and offered to call the AA."

Louisa burst into laughter.

"WHAT IS SO FUNNY?" Martin demanded to know.

"Oh, Martin, checking the oil takes how long? Two minutes, maybe three? It would be an _hour_ before there would be any chance for the AA to be anywhere near here."

"That's why I would keep the oil checked regularly at the station, but why on earth am I paying my annual fee for the AA if not to call them if I need technical help?"

"Oh, you're priceless!" Louisa laughed.

"I told you." Joan nodded into Martin's direction. "Louisa hadn't had a good laugh in a long time."

The more Louisa's mood seemed to improve, the more Martin's mood was dampened. In fact, he was very close to losing his temper.

"And how did the driving itself go? No traffic jams on the moors?" Louisa asked lightly.

"Hardly. Just one stupid camper van that couldn't go anywhere and was practically stuck."

"So what did you do?" Louisa queried further.

"What could I do? Just sit and wait."

"So you listened to the instructor's advice." Louisa could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, that's a first." Joan chimed in.

"Thank you _very_ much!" Martin protested.

Louisa closed the gap to Martin to give him a peck on the cheek as a peace offering. "It's alright, Martin. The important thing is that you've passed. So you're the proud owner of a driving license again?"

"I just told you!"

"Yeah, right." Louisa fumbled with the bag and got a P-plate out. "So maybe you need this?" She smiled and handed it towards Martin, who refused to take it.

"_Very _funny!" Martin snarled, while Louisa and Joan were in stitches. "If the whole purpose of this visit is to make fun of me, I'd rather go upstairs. I've got work to do."

_To be continued…_

_o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  
_

_.  
_

_**Just a little explanation as it seems our US-friends are not familiar with the P-plate.**  
_

_**If you are a learning driver in the UK, you've got to have an L-plate (L=learning) on your car.  
**_

_**When you passed the driving test, you can choose to have a P-plate (P=**__probationary_) on your car, indicating to other drivers that you are a beginner, signalling them that they should be more considerate or careful. It is not mandatory, purely optional.  



	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

It was the following Saturday. Louisa was sitting at her kitchen table, marvelling at the view over the harbour in between doing her marking, when her mobile rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is that Miss Glasson, Louisa Glasson speaking?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, great!"

"Who am I talking to?"

"Oh, I'm very sorry, but Chris – Chris Parsons that is – gave me your number in case of an emergency…"

"Oh, is that Dr. Graham-Simmons?"

"Arch, please. I prefer to use my first name when I have to ask for help."

"OK, Arch!" Louisa laughed. "Can I help?"

"That's awfully nice of you. In fact, you can. Chris told me you were happy to do what you can."

"By the way, shouldn't you contact Mart…ehm…Dr. Ellingham? After all, you're going to be partners, sort of."

"Well, actually, after all I've heard…I'd rather not trouble him with my little problem, you know?" The young voice at the other end sounded definitely timid.

"Shouldn't you find a way of getting along with Dr. Ellingham, if you've got to work with him?"

"Right, but maybe it would help if I don't present myself as a lost lamb in the woods first time I contact him?"

"Oh, so you're lost?"

"Embarrassing, really. Chris offered me a route description, but I foolishly refused it. I mean, I do have a SatNav and it has always helped me. I've never got lost once, really."

"Yeah, they sometimes act up down here. You can call yourself lucky that you're mobile is working."

"Why, are there negative vibrations down here?", the young doctor laughed, "Sounds like an eerie electronic ghost in the machine!"

Louisa found the young man quite pleasant to talk to. "No, not at all. Just simple, old fashioned dead zones."

"So you think that's mucking up my GPS?"

"No, the mobile is always the first to go. Well, never mind. Just tell me where you are."

"That's difficult to say, really."

"Just describe what you see."

"Actually, my SatNav claims it's the Church Hill, but it can't be. That's supposed to be a normal road, but I'm almost stuck with my car. There's hardly room to navigate and I'm already worried about my little baby."

"What car are you driving?"

"A Porsche. A beautiful, black Porsche. If this baby is really going, then…WHEW!"

Louisa chuckled. "I see. And you're sure it's _not _Church Hill? Are there any houses in sight at all?"

"Actually, there are a few, but not enough to really call it a village centre." He described a couple of houses lining the narrow road.

"Maybe, dear Dr. Graham-Simmons…."

"Arch, _please._"

"OK, Arch, I'd say your SatNav is absolutely right. Just follow the road and you should see the harbour in a few minutes."

"Honestly, I don't think this car will fit. It might get stuck."

"Don't worry."

"So you think there's plenty of room."

"What I mean is, our garage has ample experience in getting cars out of the streets in case they get stuck. Actually, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but your motorised vehicle is hardly suited for Cornish roads."

"I did notice that, but what do people do around here? They did notice cars had been invented?"

Louisa laughed, as the voice of this locum clearly indicated that he didn't suggest that in all seriousness. It was a far cry from Martin's sneering remarks.

"Actually, you really do need a car around here, because the public transport is rubbish."

"So?"

"We buy our cars with respect to practicality rather than status – small, sturdy cars that can survive a bump or three and even don't mind getting stuck in between a flock of sheep."

"I see."

"And don't worry about telling Dr. Ellingham about that. It seemed he spent his first few weeks in constant contact with the garage. Oh, you big town boys! Big toys and not able to handle them!"

"I get it. Then I'll try my luck and hope that the repairs won't be too pricey. A shame really, but there you go! Nice to have spoken to you anyway."

"I suppose we'll meet soon. One can't really avoid each other in Portwenn."

"It'll be a pleasure. I'm due at the surgery in fifteen minutes, if I'll ever make it."

"There should be plenty of time."

"You can't by any chance come to the surgery? I could do with some moral support. And your voice sounds nice."

"Sorry, can't do. I think it's best you sort yourself out with Martin. He doesn't bite, you know."

"I just know that when Uncle Chris had first worked with him ages ago – and this old battleship really isn't easy to rock –he had the jitters every time."

"So why did you come here at all, if the thought's so scary for you?"

"Everyone says he's a bloody fine doctor, so I hoped I could learn a lot during this year. Well, and the area around here isn't too bad either. So I thought I could mix business with pleasure."

"I can assure you, if you really want to learn, then there's no better mentor than Dr. Ellingham. Just one bit of advice – don't call him Martin, Doc, or anything but Dr. Ellingham, and don't be as generous with your first name as you've been with me. I prefer first names, too, but Dr. Ellingham is a bit cagey about it."

"Thanks for the advice. And now‚ go in and win!"

Slowly and carefully, Dr. Graham-Simmons made it up Roscarrock Hill. He parked next to another status car, as he had learned that this was the way people down here thought about reasonably sized cars. He assumed it must belong to Dr. Ellingham.

The young doctor searched for his tie in the glove compartment and made a neat knot. His uncle had warned him that this brilliant doctor, whom he should share the practise with for about a year, was a very fastidious man, who appreciated formal attire, old-fashioned manners and didn't take fools lightly.

Archibald Graham-Simmons knew he was no fool, and he would be nobody's fool ever. However, he wanted to learn something during this year, so he thought it better to start with a good impression. Furthermore, he didn't want to get his Uncle Chris into trouble for recommending him.

Having to dress up and brush up his manners was a small price to pay, as he was in good practise from countless family shindigs and official dinners at boarding school and later Oxford.

With a perfectly tailored suit, a perfectly tied knot in his tie and polished shoes and manners, he knocked at the surgery door.

_To be continued…_


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

"COME IN!" An angry voice bellowed, deep and sonorous and…loud.

The young doctor was glad that the door was still between them, as he jumped slightly. He remembered times when he had been called to the head of school, and he imagined himself again in a situation like that and remembered the coping mechanisms he had developed.

He took a few breaths and tried a smile. No, better not smile. From what he had heard from his uncle, this man was most probably better treated businesslike, no-nonsense.

Stone faced, he entered the cottage.

"So you're Chris Parsons' nephew."

"Yes, Dr. Ellingham." Keep it official, Archibald reminded himself. No witty answers.

"Have you noticed something?"

Dr. Graham-Simmons looked around.

"Come on, young man! Anything worth noticing?"

"Ahem, well, as you're asking – the surgery is not exactly state-of-the-art."

"If you'd expected a highly equipped, highly modern examining room full of toys and gadgets, you should have tried the Royal London Hospital. This surgery has everything that's needed and the diagnosis is done by the doctor, not the machines. Remember that!"

"Right, Dr. Ellingham!" This resembled more and more a military instruction than an introduction between two civilised people.

"Good. So nothing you've noticed? Something off, maybe?"

"Sorry, no, Dr. Ellingham." '_Except your manners, maybe' _the young man thought but kept his tongue.

"Maybe I should make inquiries for a good clock-maker for you? You're two minutes late!"

"Sorry, Dr. Ellingham. The streets in Cornwall…"

Martin raised an arm, signalling the lad to keep silent.

"Is that what they tell you in Medical School nowadays? I just want to describe a little scenario for you. You're sitting comfortably in your desk chair. You've had the tenth runny nose in to see you that morning. Then your phone suddenly rings. A woman, choking on her words because she is more busy crying and sniffing than giving you any information. You just make out the words "fall" and "harrow" and "bleeding". You use the telephone number to trace down the address, somewhere on the moors. Just as the poor farmer loses his last drop of blood, you calmly arrive at the scene of the accident, explaining '_Sorry, the streets in Cornwall_…'"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Ellingham."

"Get this into your head. Punctuality and organisation are vital for anyone in the medical profession. If you have to act, you've got to act quickly and correctly. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Dr. Ellingham!" Dr. Graham-Simmons gave the perfect impression of the eager pupil, hanging on every word coming from his master's lips. What he really thought was '_Arse!'_. However, he was fond of his Uncle Chris, and he knew it was important to him that the two of them should work together for the next couple of months. However, it was beyond him how a nice man like his Uncle could ever be friendly with someone like this asshole sneering while handing out his good advice. On the other hand, working with this man for a few months would probably provide him with good after-dinner-stories for the rest of his life.

"You're sure you're a qualified doctor?"

'_In contrast to you'_, Archibald thought, but just assured his elder peer that he had passed every exam with flying colours and made his MD summa cum laude.

"So you think you can be responsible for the welfare of this community on your own now?"

"He doesn't have to be, he's got me!" Without anyone knowing where she'd come from, Pauline had swept into the consulting room. Brushing in like a breeze, the door fell shut just as she had finished her sentence and had simultaneously plonked her colourful handbag on the floor.

Pauline squeezed between the two doctors, eyeing the new one up.

"Uh, you're a beauty. Where did they get you from? I hope you'll stay a bit. Portwenn can use someone like you." She pinched his backside. "I'm sure we'll work perfectly well together, don't you think, Doc?"

"What? Out!" Martin shouted.

"Not you, you grumpy so-and-so. I'm talking to the proper doctor." Pauline retorted. "You're in charge here now, aren't you, handsome?"

This welcome was overwhelmingly friendly for the former student, but not really unpleasant. This woman, whoever she was, represented quite a contrast to his business colleague. "Well, sort of, not really. Dr. Ellingham is…"

"…is in a business meeting and has no time for unwelcome visitors. Leave, now!"

"But I can't, can I?" Pauline just had eyes for the tasty young doctor. It would be a nice break to work for him for a while, and if she was lucky and Doc Martin ended up really being too barmy to continue in his job…who knew what could happen.

"Actually, Mrs. – I don't even know your name?" Dr. Graham-Simmons tried to defuse the tension without infuriating his boss.

"_Pauline_", the receptionist whispered in a seductive voice, "just Pauline. And it's _Miss_."

"Oh, good, I'm Arch."

"Can you please leave the socialising for later?" Martin bellowed, trying for attention. "We've got to organise this practise…"

"…and that's what you need me for." Pauline declared firmly, now confronting Martin.

"What? Whatever for?"

Pauline turned her attention again to the more pleasant sight. "I'm the practise manager."

"What?" Martin almost went into a frenzy listening to Pauline's view of the matter, but Pauline had forced the younger man a bit back, leading him by his arm, to talk to him in confidence, ignoring Dr. Ellingham who was just standing behind her.

"You know, Doc Martin would be absolutely lost without me."

"No, I would not!"

"So I don't really know how he could even think to introduce you to his practise without consulting me."

"You're crazy, woman!"

"But he must have forgotten, you know, he's a bit barmy, lately." Pauline tipped her head.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Well, not only lately, if you know what I mean." Pauline giggled.

"That's it! Enough!"

Pauline was pretty unimpressed by Dr. Ellingham's interjections. "Maybe I'll better show you my filing system." she still had Archibald's arm locked firmly, "You'll see, everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion."

"I'd be delighted, Pauline." Dr. Graham-Simmons could be a real charmer, if he wanted to be, and this young lady had enough _qualities_ for him to try. After all, he had to find a way to fill some probably pretty boring evenings in a village like this, and maybe she could help him fill the one or other lonely hour. "And I would really love to, but there are a couple of things that Dr. Ellingham and I still have to discuss. Maybe you can give me your phone number and we'll talk about it over a glass of wine?"

"Gawd, no!" Martin groaned.

"Not you, stupid!" Pauline snapped back. Towards Archibald she purred. "That's a brilliant idea. See you at the pub, at eight?"

"Which pub?"

"Gosh," Martin kept interfering, "do you really think people around here can manage to drink enough to support _two_ pubs? They try, but they don't really succeed."

"Oh, it's _the_ pub, then." Archibald smiled at Pauline, picked up her bag, handed it to her and led her to the door.

Back in the middle of the consulting room, he was all business-like again.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, Dr. Ellingham, but I suppose a new face in a village like that will always attract attention."

"You seemed to have enjoyed it."

"Nice little young thing you've got here as your practise manager."

"Receptionist, she's simply a bloody receptionist. But not for much longer, if I can help it."

"Don't be too harsh on her. She's just a bit temperamental." In a low voice he added, "_I like that in women._"

"Are you here to take the role as practitioner or as Casanova – it's the one _or _the other. Or do I have to remind you on the Hippocratic oath?"

"Oh, right – but that would mean that practically every…there must be an exception for small communities like this?"

"Can we talk business, please? I didn't let you come here just to ogle my receptionist."

"No, of course not. Sorry."

Without any more interruptions by villagers, receptionists or wanna-be-practise-managers, Martin showed his new colleague around, explaining the organisation and storage system.

"The living quarters are attached. As I'm staying at my aunt's farm for the time, you can use the rooms."

Martin led Archibald first into the kitchen.

"It's quite – close – to the surgery, isn't it?" The young man raised his objections.

"Problem with that?"

"Actually, a bit, yes."

"Living room."

"It's more like a seating area, it's hardly a room in its own right."

Martin just raised an eyebrow and continued his tour of the cottage.

However, the upstairs could do very little to win Dr. Graham-Simmons over. "Gosh, it's tiny!"

"What do you want? It's perfectly alright for one."

"Might be, but honestly, my student flat was more spacious than this."

"So?"

"Uhm, I've been wondering – are there any reasonable hotels around here?"

"Not more spacious than this, I presume."

"Of course, but they'll come with a bit of service."

"Don't you think it would be good to be available at any time?"

"Sure, but I can re-direct any call to my mobile, they'd know where to find me – no problem!"

"Hm, your funeral."

Martin, of course, couldn't help with any information, but a call to Louisa did the trick. Martin flinched inwardly when he heard the young doctor applying his charms on Louisa over the phone. He was seriously nauseous hearing all this sweet talk. When Arch finally rang off, he was provided with name, address and phone number of the Wilson Hotel.

_To be continued…_


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

And so Portwenn surgery re-opened again.

Archibald Graham-Simmons moved into the Wilson Hotel and came down into the village each morning.

Martin joined the morning sessions on mornings when he didn't have to be at Plymouth University. The afternoons he used for his studies.

Martin had already passed his first set of exams. Of course, he had excelled, passing everybody. Actually, and that was a bit embarrassing, he also was better than his tutor.

Martin was eager to get this re-training over and done with, but his tutor was even more eager to get him out of his tutorial. It wasn't good for his reputation to have a 'student' who regularly noted some inaccuracies, had further explanations or spotted downright errors.

Students never remembered much, at least not what they should remember. However, things like that could stay with you for years to come. The less encounters of that kind, the better.

Martin had been grumbling about the new doctor ever since he came into town, but Louisa scolded Martin for being so unthankful, finding the new doctor quite nice herself. Her sympathy towards him only worsened Martin's feelings towards his colleague.

Pauline also tried to get on with the new doctor as best as she could. A young, charming, educated, wealthy man was exactly what Portwenn needed, in her opinion. Al had quite a different take on the matter.

Strangely enough, Portwennians seemed to be sick more likely in the afternoons nowadays, while the morning hours were pretty quiet. So, Martin and his young colleague had plenty of time to discuss new developments in medicine and talk over more interesting cases that they had recently treated.

The younger doctor soon got over his regrets at being out in this backwater. He found Dr. Ellingham a supreme diagnostician and an excellent mentor, despite being a horrible head and a difficult person. He somehow understood why the villagers preferred the afternoon hours, as they were spared lectures on their lifestyle and insults regarding their mental capacities.

It was also quite obvious that there was a definite decrease in health lately in the women under or around 30, which was quite alarming, and also miraculously strictly occurred in the afternoons. The patients often were so grateful for the good treatment that they felt obliged to invite the caring doctor for a drink to compensate him for his troubles.

However, Graham-Simmons tried to get the more complicated cases to have morning appointments, as he appreciated the input of his more experienced peer.

Another group of patients that regularly ended up in Dr. Ellingham's surgery hours were kids that were supposed to be at school, but either faked being ill because they wanted a day off or were genuinely sick, which was a welcome change as far as Martin was concerned.

Unfortunately, the usual ailments of minors were hardly a challenge for Martin. As much as he valued being back in practise at first, he had to put up with two things pretty soon. First, it was not at all to his liking that he wasn't allowed to see any patients without this young twit hanging around. Second, the intellectual challenge was limited, to put it mildly.

Most pupils had nothing more exciting than a cold (which could have been avoided by basic hygiene routine or keeping sick children at home), twisted ankles or bruises (as they couldn't tell their left foot from their right), or nausea of any kind (which, again, came down to abhorrent personal hygiene or terrible eating habits).

Dr. Graham-Simmons always cringed inwardly hearing his elder colleague bellow advice to intimidated mothers. Things came to a head one morning when a mother with her nauseous child came in first thing, pushing past all the other patients.

"Sorry, Doc, it's an emergency, really."

"Come in." The young doctor seeing the state of despair of the young woman couldn't send her away or back into the queue. "So what's the problem?"

"It seems he can't keep his breakfast in. He's been complaining about a funny tummy all evening, but it doesn't seem any better this morning."

"That's not an emergency." Dr. Ellingham bellowed. "Get an appointment."

"Actually, it is rather urgent. I've got to be at work in half an hour."

"You've got a child to care for, woman! If he has any gastrointestinal infection he has to stay home for a couple of days, and at his age it's illegal to leave him at home alone."

"Can't you help him quicker? I really can't take any time off and I have no one to look after him. So he has to go to school."

"To infect other children. Great idea." Martin grumbled.

"Dr. Ellingham," the locum tried to save the atmosphere, "she does have to earn a living, so we do have to find a solution."

"Maybe you can get him adopted by noon." Martin suggested rather unhelpfully.

"It's alright for you," the mother of the boy snapped back, "your partner didn't ran off with someone fifteen years his junior. You're without any responsibilities, you have _no _idea! I don't have people fussing over me if something goes wrong!"

Dr. Graham-Simmons realised that the consultation was drifting off into dangerous waters, so he tried to navigate back to medical grounds.

"Let's first find out what's wrong." He turned towards the pale, quiet boy who had sat stoically throughout the turmoil. "What's your name?"

"Tommy."

"OK, Tommy. Where does it hurt?" The doctor leaned towards the boy and applied pressure to the stomach. The boy grimaced, winced and turned sideways, just in time to throw up – directly onto Martin, who had been sitting next to his younger colleague.

"Gawd!" Martin groaned. "Be careful on whom you empty the content of your stomach!"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Ellingham." The boy meekly whispered, being white as a sheet by now.

"No one's angry with you, it's not your fault. Everything's OK." Archibald tried to soothe his young patient.

"It's OK for you!" Dr. Ellingham bellowed. "Your suit isn't spoiled." Martin grabbed a few tissues, trying to undo the worst damage. "Disgusting!" He swore through gritted teeth. "I guess this child has done enough damage for one day. Take him home. Keep him close to the loo. Plenty of fluids, enough salts, rest. No school for three days. And don't let him vomit on everyone. Goodbye."

"But Dr. Ellingham…" the locum tried to interfere.

"Shush."

"I'll talk with Miss Glasson, then. She'll have a solution." The angry mother shouted at the Doc.

"Can she magically make gastro-intestinal germs disappear?" Martin asked sarcastically, while still brushing at his suit.

"She'll find a solution. Our Miss Glasson can. Come, Tommy!"

The pale boy shifted off the chair and followed his mother out the door.

"IF IT'S SALMONELLA, WE'LL HAVE TO INFORM HEALTH AND SAFTETY!" Martin yelled after them, and while the door fell shut he uttered. "Idiot!"

"Dr. Ellingham," the learning doctor felt obliged to intervene for the sake of his patient, "don't you think it would have been in the interest of the child to drive the mother away only when we had finished the examination, making sure that there is no more serious reason for the boy's illness? I didn't even get a chance to ask for a stool sample."

"You'll soon have enough opportunity to examine the exact nature of the germ. If it is really an infection, and if he is really allowed back to school, then he'll manage to vomit on half of his mates and teachers within hours, and the day after tomorrow latest they'll flock in and you'll have stool samples from all different people, showing all the same cause of damage. I just hope Louisa won't be stupid enough to let the disgusting little twit into the class. NEXT PATIENT!"

Martin tried hard to ignore the disgusting smell coming from his trousers, but just one patient later, he knew he had to give up. Not only did that the sticky stain on his trousers distract his attention, the odour made him nauseous himself and the next patient had been more than just slightly irritated by the smell.

So Martin excused himself for the rest of the day, much to Dr. Graham-Simmons relief. The young doctor had become fairly accustomed to Martin's little idiosyncrasies, but Martin had been even more unbearable than usual after the incident with the child. Somehow it seemed to him that the reason lay deeper than the simple fact that Dr. Ellingham had been victim of his patient being violently sick.

Martin was standing next to his car, trying to figure out how to get in without befouling the interior and exuding this strong odour, when he saw Louisa walking energetically up the hill.

"School finished early?"

"No, it's not finished. Actually, I just had a complaint and thought I'd better dig deeper into this."

"Aaahh." Martin had opened the boot and tried to find something he could use to cover his seat.

"So you know what I'm talking about?"

"What?" Martin fingered in his boot. "Got it."

"So you got what I'm on about?"

"Sorry, Louisa. I haven't got the slightest idea what you're talking about. This foil should do."

"Foil? I'm talking about Tommy."

"Who?" Martin tried to cover his seat.

"Tommy? Pale boy, eight, darkish hair, tummy ache? I reckon you met him this morning."

Martin turned around, gesturing down his trousers. "You can say that. He hit me – big time."

"And is that your idea of revenge, or what?"

"What?"

"Sending him away without any treatment? You'd better think again about this one."

"I beg your pardon!" Martin was straightening up to his full height. "I told his mother what to do, but this obnoxious woman knew it better and declared she'd go to you!"

"Well, she did. She told me you didn't even take the time to examine this poor boy."

"There was no need. He proved rather impressively what was wrong with him the moment Dr. Graham-Simmons wanted to start his examination. Bed rest, plenty of fluids and some rehydration salt should do the trick – as I told the mother of the child."

"Could you also tell her who should look after the boy?"

"One of his parents, I presume."

"His father left ages ago and to add to it, is a sailor and probably somewhere on the Pacific right now."

"So then his mother should. I saw her this morning so she should still be in this country."

"She had to be at work, as she told you as far as I know."

"Her choice."

"No, it's not her _choice_, but pure necessity. It's no good to give advice that can't be followed."

"I'm not responsible if parents produce children without having the means to care for them. I can just tell them what to do to make the ailment better. It's their choice to follow that advice or leave it. At least I told them that he was not to go to school for at least three days."

"But that's the only place he can go."

"Congratulations." Martin sneered. "You won yourself an epidemical stomach flu."

"You'd better stop here, we've been through this before."

"We have? Good."

"I don't want to hear about those rats running through the streets again!"

"Rats?"

"Oh, never mind. There are some things I wish I could forget."

"Great. May I drive home now to change my clothes, or shall I wait until the next of your pupils catches the virus and comes to spread bodily fluids over me?"

"You really think I'm stupid, or something? Of course I didn't let Tommy into his class. He will spend the day in our sick room."

"And uses the public loo."

Louisa looked at her feet.

"Good. Great. I'd better bring some spare suits down with me for the next couple of days. Saves me the trip to the farm."

Arriving at the farm, he ran into Joan who noticed at once the tell-tale smell and stain on his trousers.

"Hi Marty, back to normal?"

"If you call children vomiting over me normal."

"Oh, that's what happened? I guessed that your blood thing had reappeared."

"I'm fine," Martin answered defensively, "as long as mothers don't allow their children to throw up wherever they like and bring them to school to deliberately spread the infection."

"Oh no, Martin! You haven't!"

"Haven't what?"

"Did you talk with Louisa about that?" Joan asked tentatively.

"This stupid mother had nothing better to do than to stomp off and go directly to Louisa. I really thought she'd be more sensible than…"

"NO! Really, Marty. After all she did for you. You didn't tell her that you disapproved of her actions."

"Pardon me! That has nothing to do with it. She is responsible for the children…"

"…and she's doing an excellent job!" Joan interrupted.

"…and she's knowingly endangering their health! In most cases when children are vomiting, they have some sort of infection and they have to be kept away from other children."

"You're just a thick-headed, stupid boy. Do you always have to know everything better?"

"You don't have to have read medicine to know that vomiting children have to stay at home, just common sense. I really thought Louisa had that."

"You're hopeless, _absolutely_ hopeless."

"That's an opinion you're entitled to have, but am I allowed to get out of this filthy suit now and have a shower? The smell is really nauseating."

Joan let the subject rest, and Louisa excused herself that evening for being too busy. Martin kept going as normal. He had done his duty. He was right.

_To be continued…_


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Two days after the incident the waiting room was packed, unsurprisingly with children throwing up. Martin's mood was at a low point. He was just glad that he had had a couple of spare suits brought to the surgery to be in his cupboard upstairs just in case. To handle the masses of patients, the two doctors had split, while Martin settled in the kitchen, Dr. Graham-Simmons kept on practising in the consulting room. Mrs. Tishell had been instructed to keep rehydration salts at hand.

While Martin manoeuvred through the waiting area, he overheard two mothers talking about how the staff of the school was equally affected and that many lessons had had to be reorganised due to teachers having fallen ill. Even the reliable Miss Glasson had had to stay home.

First, Martin felt satisfaction for having been correct in his prognosis and about the warning. Righteousness rearing its ugly head, and if he'd been confronted with Louisa right that moment, he would have said: "I told you!"

When the information had sunk in, it was replaced with concern for Louisa. Whenever he came to the reception, he inquired if any new appointments had been made, hoping Louisa would come to get herself checked.

The day progressed, but no sign of Louisa. As the day was extraordinarily busy, Martin did not take the afternoon off but soldiered on, even skipping his lunch break. Only at half past four did he inform his locum that he'd prefer to stop now. The majority of patients was already home and hopefully in their beds, so Dr. Graham-Simmons could manage the remaining few.

Martin stomped off towards the little supermarket, acquiring loads of bottled water and salted crackers. Next stop was at the pharmacy, stocking up on his supply of rehydration salts and adding loose herbal tea.

Being well equipped, he marched towards _White Rose Cottage_ and banged on the door. Nobody answered, so he kept knocking and yelling Louisa's name. Martin was still arguing with himself if he should check if the door was unlocked, a habit around here that he didn't understand at all but could be useful for once, when shuffling sounds from within indicated that Louisa had heard him.

The door opened just a tad and Louisa peered through the gap. She was pale, dark circles around the eyes and her hair slightly dishevelled.

"Sorry, Martin, I know it hasn't been the right decision. I'm feeling miserable. You were right. Can we leave it at that, because I'm really not in the mood for any lectures?"

Martin pushed the door open and barged in.

"Please, Martin, I'm really not up for a confrontation. I'm feeling the consequence of not taking your advice."

"Are you drinking enough fluids?"

"What? Uhm, I guess so. I had some glasses of water, slept through most of the day though. But I drink some when I'm awake."

"Under normal conditions, you should drink two to three litres a day. During a gastrointestinal infection, the need is heightened due to the excess water loss. Have you covered that?"

"Maybe not. I don't know."

Martin took her hand and kneaded her skin. Then he slightly pushed her eyelid down, examining her closely.

"Dehydration. Just as I thought. Already it's affecting the circulatory system."

"You didn't have to come to tell me that I feel rotten. I know that."

"Shush. Up with you. Go to bed."

He shepherded her upstairs. Louisa had no energy left to contradict him, just as she noticed he'd followed her into her bedroom, she started to protest. It was anything but tidy as she had spent the last 24 hours in it, feeling unwell and cluttering her stuff all over the place.

"Martin, you're not coming in, are you?"

"I'm your doctor. I am."

"Actually, I don't think I'd like that. You must know it's not in top shape right now."

"Nonsense. I'm here to look after you, not the state of your room."

"Really, Martin, I don't think…I…" Louisa's speech slightly slurred, "I….want…want…."

"Louisa, go in there now and get into bed, or you might collapse!"

"Don't….be…silly,…I…am ...perfectly…."

"Fine." Martin said, as he managed to catch Louisa when she fainted. He struggled to set his bags down while still standing on the stairs and keeping Louisa from falling. Finally he managed to lift her and carry her to her bed. Gingerly he put her down and immediately started to examine her.

After a moment, Louisa started to blink wildly. "Martin?"

"It's alright. You passed out. Nothing to worry about." He reached into his breast pocket where some supplies had been stored from when he had bought them from Mrs. Tishell. He handed a pill towards Louisa. "Take that."

"What is it for?"

"Stabilises your circulation. Take it."

Defeated by now, she obediently took the tablet from him and swallowed it down with the water he held towards her.

"Lie back and wait a moment."

He dashed out and Louisa looked after him, wondering what he was up to.

Louisa heard some shuffling on the stairs, then Martin going downstairs. Then she heard nothing for a while. Finally, his footsteps sped upstairs and she envied him for the energy he had and that she was lacking. His head popped through the doorway.

"When did you eat last?"

"Oh, eh…let me think….it was dark. Was it this morning….Could have been last night, actually. I'm not sure."

"Thought so."

The footsteps were speeding down the stairs again, before Louisa could shout after him.

"I'm not very hungry anyway!"

"Rubbish!" Martin's voice echoed back.

Some more moments of silence, longer now, before slow footsteps approached again.

This time, Martin's back was first seen, as he pushed the door open with his back, and then turning into the room, carefully carrying a tray.

He placed it carefully on Louisa's bedside table, where a steaming pot of herbal tea, two slices of slightly buttered toast, a glass of water with some granulates dissolving, three bottles of water and a bowl with crackers were placed.

Louisa propped herself up in bed, looking at the tray. It was unusual for her to be cared for like this. As long as she remembered, she had to deal with situations like this on her own. Manage somehow, despite feeling rotten. It was nice to be pampered for a change.

"Thanks, Martin."

Martin pointed towards the glass of water. "I dissolved some rehydration salts in it. That should keep your mineral supply in check. Even if you don't feel like it, you've got to eat something. No fats or other nutrients difficult to digest. Some vitamins would be alright, but only if you have at least buttered toast with it, as many vitamins are liposoluble and can cause even more trouble with the digestive system when taken without a protective lipid layer. If you should feel a bit peckish, the crackers might be useful as they provide salts as well as carbohydrates. And please drink at least these three bottles of water before I check on you again. I'll check on you first thing in the morning, before surgery."

Martin had finished his instructions. "I'll let myself out. See you tomorrow." He turned on his heels and headed towards the door. When Louisa had regained herself she said "Martin!"

He stopped and turned. "Anything else you need?"

"Yes, Martin."

"What? What do you need?"

"It's getting pretty boring all day in bed, alone."

"Shall I bring you something to read?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could keep me company. That is, if you can spare some minutes and aren't too afraid of infecting yourself."

"The latter should be of no concern, as I was surrounded by vomiting children and adults for most of the day. I can hardly add any more danger in catching the disease."

"But you're busy?"

"No."

"No studies waiting for you?"

"It's been a hard day and I can hardly concentrate on anything."

"So you'd rather go home immediately? Have some sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep now. I first have to reduce the stress level."

"Do you have to be somewhere special to do that, or could you do that here?"

Martin paused, curling his fingers and awkwardly stalking a bit more into the room again. He looked around a bit insecure. "Here would be fine." He finally managed to say.

"Great." Louisa patted the bed beside her. Martin looked around trying to find a chair to fetch, but could find one. So, reluctantly, he sat down on her bed.

There was an awkward silence between them.

"Drink your tea while it's hot." Martin pointed towards the tray.

"Uhm, about the other day…I really should have taken your advice, you know."

"Shush. It's easy to be wise afterwards. Just promise me to take my advice to eat regularly, drink more fluids and take the rehydration salts."

"Yes, doctor."

"Fine."

Again, there was an awkward silence, which Louisa finally broke. "So how was your day?"

"Long."

"You worked the whole day from this morning to now?"

"Lots of patients."

"Did it go alright?"

"No one vomited over me. That's an improvement."

Louisa looked down at her blanket, gnawing on a bit of toast.

It was difficult for any of them to start a conversation, as Louisa felt guilty for causing Martin so much trouble and Martin tried hard not to scold Louisa for her irresponsible behaviour. Unfortunately, the only thing happening at the moment in Portwenn right now and the only thing that Louisa and Martin had been occupied with during the last 24 hours had been the runs which apparently all of Portwenn had.

Martin stayed sitting silently until Louisa had finished her snack.

"You should rest now."

"Don't leave just yet."

"I'll be back first thing in the morning." Martin said while tucking Louisa in carefully. "Rest and plenty of fluids are the best way to restore your well-being as quickly as possible."

"Thanks for…everything."

_To be continued…_


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Martin moved into his own cottage the next morning. Before he drove into the village for surgery, he had packed his suitcases. With his entire collection of luggage in the boot, he headed towards his cottage to stay there for good.

He had found out during the weeks before, when he and his locum worked together during office hours, that it was favourable if he could do some things in between seeing patients, and that to do this he needed his things around. If nothing else, the incident with the vomiting child a couple of weeks back had led to a steadily filling cupboard, just in case.

Martin had also realised that his privacy wouldn't be too much disturbed by the practice. During surgery hours, he was downstairs anyway. He had decided that he'd learn more doing his job rather than reading the books. University was not as challenging for him as he had expected, so he'd rather do his job. After hours his locum would leave for his hotel room and he had the cottage to himself and to his studies.

Martin was determined to be as independent as possible again. He had regained his physical strength, he had regained his mobility, he was working on his professional future again, and helping Auntie Joan had proven to him that he was able to provide for himself. There was no good reason whatsoever to keep hiding on the farm. Besides, harvest time was coming and Joan had more than enough to do without him hanging around.

He didn't like the thought of being in the village centre though, as he feared he would be in the centre of attraction too, but he had to take the plunge at some point. So now was just as good a time as any.

However, lately he had been a bit more in the village's good book. While it didn't take long for Dr. Graham-Simmons to recognise the abilities of his extraordinary colleague, the village needed more practical proof that the gruff, shouting and insulting Dr. Ellingham had some advantages over the smart, young, charming locum.

A woman had come into surgery a couple of times already, carefully avoiding any surgery hours held by Dr. Ellingham. She had difficulties breathing. Dr. Graham-Simmons checked for acute bronchial infection first, and after eliminating this possibility, he treated her for allergic asthma, using antihistamines. The treatment showed absolutely no effect, and the woman kept on struggling for air, despite never having smoked in her entire life.

Next, the young doctor suspected bronchial asthma, prescribing cortisone. Again to no effect.

The locum was struggling, and when this patient asked again for an appointment when Doctor Ellingham wasn't around, he instructed Pauline to rearrange the appointment so that he could confer with his peer.

Begrudgingly and solely driven by her health problem, the woman appeared one morning. Dr. Martin Ellingham had been informed about the recent treatment by his locum first thing in the morning. It was clear that the learning doctor was at his wits end and that Martin would lead this consultation.

"You've been having breathing problems for a couple of weeks now?"

"Yes, it is really annoying. It seems to be getting worse. Or maybe I'm just getting impatient. I mean, you expect even the nastiest of colds to get better someday, but somehow…"

"Shush!"

The prattling of the patient stopped abruptly, while her mood worsened.

"I see that treatment for acute, chronically as well as allergic asthma has failed."

"It's frustrating really, I'm popping in those pills, whenever someone touches me I almost expect to rattle, if you know what I mean…"

"SHUSH!"

The patient's shoulders sank.

"You did follow the instructions on how to take the medicine?"

"I am not an idiot." This time the answer was short, clear and, from Martin's point of view, to be doubted.

Dr. Ellingham looked sceptically towards the patient to size up if she could be trusted in that respect or not. Provocatively, the patient leaned back, crossing her bare arms in front of her chest.

"Is it itching?" Dr. Ellingham suddenly asked, pointing towards one of her arms.

"What?"

"This oedema on your right arm."

"My _what?_"

"The red spot." Martin sighed as she didn't seem to understand the most basic terms.

"Oh, that. No not at all. I didn't even notice it." She turned the arm to inspect it properly. "But that's nothing. I have them all the time. Sometimes they sting."

Martin looked again into her record.

"There was a false alarm for appendicitis a couple of years back, I see?"

"Yeah, big fuss about nothing. It seems it had been a simple colic, but Dr. Simms just wanted to be sure."

Martin raised an eyebrow and looked over to his colleague, who was still clueless, but had the distinct feeling that this was one of the moments why his uncle had sent him down here.

"You noticed something, Dr. Ellingham?"

"Haven't you?"

"Sorry, no. I still can't see any connection."

Martin finally felt truly a mentor, and for the first time not as an appendix. He took wholeheartedly to the teacher role.

"So what would be the next thing you would do?"

"Check her breathing?"

"But you did that several times already with no result."

"Ehm, yes."

"What is the most potent tool for diagnosticians?"

"In this case, the stethoscope?"

"No. Try again."

Archibald didn't feel offended, as he genuinely felt he could learn something, and he didn't feel humiliated, as he would most probably never see this woman again after he had finished his job down here in a couple of months.

"A blood sample?"

"Looking for what?"

"Infection markers?"

"No."

"Tumour markers?"

"What?" The patient screamed.

"Shush." Martin silenced her. "No."

"Sorry, I really don't know."

"Maybe you need another tool first, then?"

"I really give up."

Martin turned towards the patient again. "Did any of your parents suffer from these red spots?"

"Yeah, Dad had them all the time and Mum always joked about he should keep his hands off things, for a change."

Martin looked triumphantly towards his younger colleague who smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"HAE!"

"Highly likely."

"So a blood sample to be tested for C1 inhibitors, C2 and C4."

"Precisely."

"Well done, Dr. Ellingham!"

The patient looked stunned from one doctor to the next. "Is this still English you're talking, and if it is, what does it mean?" She had clearly addressed the younger doctor, but he nodded towards Martin. After all, it had been his diagnosis.

"The receptionist will draw some blood, then we can verify the possible cause. We'll call you when the results are available."

"Is it something serious, then?"

"It can probably be treated."

Unsurprisingly, Martin's suspicion was verified by the lab results, and finally the proper treatment for the woman could be initiated. Dr. Graham-Simmons had made it clear to her, that her condition could have been fatal if not treated properly and that Dr. Ellingham quite possibly saved her life.

The word got around, and the village was reminded again how lucky they were to have Dr. Ellingham as their GP, gruff and rude as he might be. After all, it had been Doc Martin who had spotted this strange illness, which had escaped the posh new Doc. The village had taken new pride in _their_ Doc. Doc Martin was best. No matter how hot the young doctor was, that tosser Ellingham had outdone him. In the end, that was what really counted.

The village had developed a strange sense of possessiveness towards Martin, with people offering help and self-made preservatives and pickles and other things, much to Martin's disdain. Bert had made it clear that there would always be a seat for him and lovely Louisa, whenever he wanted, and the bill could be sorted among friends.

Dr. Graham-Simmons also saw his colleague in a new light, admiring the precise diagnostic skills and simply hoping some might rub off on him.

Consequently, for the time being, Martin was treated with comparative friendliness by the villagers, except of course by a certain pack of teenage girls. Maybe this was the best chance ever to get used to village life again.

_To be continued…_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_HAE = Hereditary angioedema (also known as "Quincke edema") is a rare genetic disorder and characterized by local swelling in subcutaneous tissues, including skin, mucosa and inner organs. It is caused by a deficiency of a protein of which is part of the immune system. _

_I apologize to everyone who knows his medicine if my description is utterly wrong. My sole knowledge is from a pharmaceutical journal, where I spotted an article that this disease is often falsely diagnosed, and Wikipedia. I can hear our Doc sneer already…_


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Before he started surgery, he brought his luggage upstairs and stowed his things away. When he heard Graham-Simmons entering the front door, he had already sorted everything and was downstairs in his kitchen, fixing a strong cup of coffee. He needed that before the ordeal of the consultations started.

"Morning, Doctor Ellingham. You're early!" A not so cheerful voice greeted Martin.

Martin looked at his watch. "Ten to nine. Not _exactly_ early." He snapped back and taking his cup from the machine, he turned towards his locum.

"What on earth have you done! You look awful. Let me examine you."

"No need, I'm fine."

Martin looked sceptically at his junior partner's face, the blood-shot eyes, the pale complexion. "You look worse than some of our patients."

"Well, it's just…did you know they did have a village fete last night at the village hall?"

Actually, Martin did know that. Louisa had asked him if he wanted to come with her to this event. He listened to Louisa's enthusiastic description with growing disdain and couldn't help but growling his answer at her. "Certainly not!"

"Of course not. Might be fun, so why do it? You're hopeless, absolutely hopeless." Louisa had sighed before trotting away. Martin wasn't sure if she'd gone to the fete alone, or, worse, with someone else. It had been on his mind all evening.

Joan had noticed that something was on his mind, and after dinner had asked him bluntly: "What are you so glum about?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Marty, it's written all over you."

"Uhm…I…" Martin was stuttering, "I was wondering…do you think Louisa went to the village fete tonight?"

"I think she wanted to go. She usually does. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"She needs some fun now and then, don't you think?"

"It's not what I would call fun." Martin had mumbled.

Joan shot a look at him. "Yes, Marty, but your definition of fun is not even in the dictionary. Do you mind her going out enjoying herself?"

"No, if that's what she likes." Martin grumbled.

"It is, Marty, and it's what most people like."

"Uhm…uh…who do you think she went with?"

"I know she wanted to ask you. Considering that you are brooding at my kitchen table, I think you stood her up again. Don't you think it wouldn't have been easier to go with her? Then you'd know whom she had gone with. Besides, you would have made Louisa happy. Is it really too much to ask that you spend one evening with her, doing what she likes, instead of turning the pages of your medical books, hm?"

This was the cue for Martin to get up and storm upstairs, uttering something about the impending exam.

"That's right, Marty. Go on and hide over your books! Let life pass you by! But don't complain when Louisa finally comes to her senses and finds someone who's willing to spend an evening with her on her terms!"

Martin had gone to his desk and opened the book. He was staring at it, but his aunt's words echoed in his head.

What was he really willing to invest? Shouldn't he have gone to this village nonsense with Louisa although he absolutely loathed things like that? What good would he have been to Louisa – he didn't dance, he didn't drink, he hated that kind of music, he couldn't talk to her as the music would have made every conversation impossible. So of what use would he have been to her?

But she knew that and had asked him nevertheless. Would it have really been important to Louisa to have him at her side? Wouldn't he have survived one evening like this just for her sake? He thought of all the things Louisa had done for him, and some of them couldn't have been much fun for her, either.

He was really in doubt all evening long, but now, looking at the blood-shot eyes of his junior partner, bearing all the signs of a profound hangover, Martin knew exactly why he avoided shindigs like that.

"Gawd!" Martin grunted, pushing past his colleague. Passing the waiting room, Martin bellowed. "FIRST PATIENT!"

Almost the whole waiting area flinched away. Pauline, in more disarray than usual, looked furiously into Martin's direction. The young doctor following on his heels groaned.

In the consulting room, Archibald Graham-Simmons turned to the senior doctor in low voice.

"Dr. Ellingham, do you think we could keep the conversation today on civilised sound levels? Just this once? I suppose all your patients, and me too, would be grateful if you wouldn't yell as much."

Through the closed door Dr. Ellingham instructed his receptionist. "THE PATIENT NOTES! WE HAVEN'T GOT ALL DAY!"

This morning, the percentage of patients with headache was higher than average. Martin thought disapprovingly that they shouldn't drink when they came whining to the surgery for the doctor to ease the consequences for their irresponsible behaviour.

The relation between the two doctors was also a bit strained that day as Martin showed no sympathy at all for his suffering partner.

During the lunch break of what could only be described as one of the more irritating days at the surgery, Martin strode into the village. He was glad to get the painful faces out of his sight for a couple of hours. Just having moved back into his cottage, his supplies were in a sorry state. So he was in desperate need of some shopping.

First Martin stopped at the fish monger to get some nice fish filets. Then he went to the little supermarket to get general supplies in cleansing agents, sanitary products and other stuff. Last, he stopped at the grocers to get fresh fruits and vegetables. On his way in, he bumped into Louisa, carrying a huge bag filled with different fruits.

"Oh..ouch.." Louisa lifted her hand to her head. "Be careful!"

"Oh…uhm…sorry, Louisa… I…"

"Oh, it's you, Martin. I didn't realise."

Martin looked at the bag in Louisa's hand. "Vitamin C is very good to counteract the effects of excessive alcohol…"

Louisa put her hand up. "Stop right there. I'm really not in the condition for one of your lectures."

"Oh…uhm…right…I see."

"I hope you do. I'll leave you to it."

"Uhm…I…"

"Yes, Martin?"

"I'm back in my cottage."

"Yes, you told me you planned to move back today."

"I did."

"Good. Then I guess we'll bump into each other more often again."

"Yes! I mean. I thought."

"Yes, Martin?"

"I bought some fish."

"Great."

"I mean, I bought plenty. To cook."

"Of course, what else for."

"Uhm…what I was trying to say…I mean…"

"Yes, Martin? Is there anything else? Because I do have to get back to school."

"Oh, right. Sorry. It's just." Martin fondled nervously at his bag. "I've bought more than I need and maybe you'll like to join me." He finally added quickly.

"I'd love to! Thank you very much, Martin!"

"Great. Good."

"When?"

"Six."

"See you at six, then."

"Right."

_To be continued…_


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

The rest of the day was hardly bearable for Martin. Only minor complains, most of which could have been settled with a bit of common sense. Furthermore, he couldn't wait for his locum to leave so that he could prepare the meal. He wanted to make it right, after all.

As soon as the surgery was closed and the cottage was quiet, Martin turned towards the kitchen and started to prepare the vegetables. He was chopping some carrots, when there was a knock on the door. Apron over his suit, Martin went to answer it.

"Auntie Joan?"

"I was just wondering how my favourite nephew was doing? I thought I'd keep you company. After all, it's your first evening all on your own in a long time."

"Right." Martin uttered without much conviction.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" Joan complained mockingly and squeezed in. "Nice welcome you pay to your guests. I just thought…"

Joan's voice trailed off as she noticed _two _fish filets on the chopping board, _two _glasses and _two _plates sitting on the table waiting to be laid out.

"…thought I drop by…and see if everything's OK…."

"Fine." Martin quickly assured her, not quite certain how he could get rid of his aunt without telling her the reason why.

"…and then…I…I think I need to check an old friend's house. She's in hospital and I promised to check on her cottage. I hope you don't mind it too much that I can't stay tonight?" Joan added with a mischievous grin.

"That's fine. Absolutely." Martin sighed relieved.

"I suppose I'd better go then." Martin eagerly led his aunt to the door. Joan was already in the doorway when she turned around. "And Marty, make the most of it. Enjoy yourself, and don't be too shy. If you're lucky, you won't have to be alone here for too long."

.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

.

"Martin, that was lovely."

"Uhm…thanks." Martin practically beamed at the compliment. He had loved preparing dinner for Louisa. They had spent a very nice evening. Louisa seemed to have appreciated the meal, at least she had said so. There was only an awkward moment when Louisa insisted on adding more salt to her potatoes, although Martin thought they actually contained enough sodium. Louisa had insisted and Martin had managed to keep his mouth shut instead of lecturing her on the effects.

"I've got cheese and apple afterwards."

"I can't have you eating it all by yourself, can I?"

"Uhm…I don't like it."

"What are you saying – you just made it for me?"

"Don't you like it? I thought you said to Joan…"

"You noticed? And you remembered. Oh, that's so sweet of you!" Louisa tried to put her hands on Martin's to thank him, but just as she was about to make contact, he jumped up to get the pudding.

Finally, both were sitting together at the table, enjoying a cup of tea.

"Thanks very much, that was nice."

"I…eh…a sort of welcome party."

"It seems this party has a very exclusive guest list."

"Uhm…eh…I…I wanted to thank you. For all your support."

"You're welcome. I suppose you won't need me much anymore."

Martin looked at her with his soft expression and was absentmindedly nodding, not having really taken in what she had said.

"You managed to become independent again quite quickly."

"I tried."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Fine." The answer came too quick to be true.

"And how are you _really _feeling."

"Good."

"Is it still quite painful for you to not remember? I can't begin to think how you must be feeling."

"Quite alright."

"Don't, Martin."

"What?"

"Don't play it down. Don't be so evasive. You don't have to cover it up. Haven't we been through all this together from the start? Don't leave me behind now that you don't need me anymore."

"I concentrate on the task on hand."

"You mean your studies."

"Uhum."

"But what about the amnesia? Don't you try to get over it anymore?"

"I think it won't be fruitful to dwell on that. It will be much more productive to focus on the practical aspects of getting my life re-organised again."

"You've managed quite well. You've really sorted yourself out admirably."

"Uhm…right?"

"So I guess, my help is no longer needed. Back to normal."

Martin paused, trying to make out what she was aiming at.

"Oh, right, I see. I've used up so much of your time. Of course, you'll go ahead, I won't keep you from your life any longer."

Louisa sighed. "Is that what you want, Martin?"

"I understand. No need to worry. Sorry that I kept you so long from living your own life."

"Don't you think I would have stopped coming a long time ago if I hadn't hoped that your life could connect with my life, eventually? I hoped we'd reach the point where I would be doing it for _our_ life."

Louisa placed her hand softly onto Martin's, who looked at it puzzled.

"Is that it, Martin? Was that all you wanted with this dinner?"

"Absolutely."

"So all this bother, just to thank me."

"The least I could do."

"I sort of hoped…maybe…" Louisa ran her fingernails over the back of his hand. Martin slightly withdrew it.

"Martin?"

"Uhm…yes?"

"What was that?"

"I told you, I just invited you to thank…"

"No, I mean why did you withdraw your hand? I was just…oh, forget it. Or better, I should forget it, what do you think, hm?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us. That's what I mean. I thought this dinner meant you were ready…maybe…for us…"

Martin looked down. "Sorry," he uttered bleakly.

"Sorry, what? Sorry, you're not interested? If you decided against us, you'd better tell me."

"I need more time."

"How much more is _more_? You said you'd have to sort yourself out first – you're back in your cottage, back in your job, you don't need help from anyone anymore. Looks pretty sorted to me."

"Not everything is sorted. I need to know."

"But you just told me that you're concentrating on the practical things. That you try not to think about _it _too much. How will it become better if you're not working on it? Did you ever consider going to that therapist?"

"I just have to wait a bit longer."

"How long do you want to wait?"

"Don't rush me."

"I'm hardly rushing you, but I can't wait forever. We're not getting any younger."

Martin looked up, his eyes pleading at Louisa.

"Right, I'll tell you what. I will let this subject rest…" Martin sighed relieved.

"Right."

"…but only for the rest of the year. You can't keep brooding about it forever. If nothing happens before the new year starts, I'll try again."

Martin's face clouded again.

"And you'd better start doing something about your amnesia. You can't just wait and see."

_To be continued…_


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

School ended early for Louisa and she came to the surgery early one afternoon about a week after their dinner. When she approached the cottage, she saw Martin heading for his car.

Louisa shouted towards him "Hello Martin! I thought I'd just drop by. Where are you going? You're not doing house calls already, are you?"

"What? No."

"Are you on your way to Joan's?"

"No."

"So where are you going, during surgery hours by all means?"

"Surgery's quiet. The locum can handle this afternoon on his own for once."

"So you're going where?"

"Off."

"I do see that." Martin looked at his car keys, then at his Lexus.

"Right. I see."

"Yes, Martin, you standing with your car keys next to your car gives a pretty good clue about _What happens next_. What it does not say is, where you are going."

"Eeehmm…around."

"Can I come with you?"

"NO! No, Louisa. Don't!"

His reaction made Louisa suspicious. He had been too quick and too determined at refusing her company to be up to something sensible.

"Martin Ellingham, are you about to do something stupid?"

"Me? No, of course not." Martin's reply was again too quick and too short to comfort Louisa, especially as Martin avoided any eye contact while talking with her.

"You must know where you want to go. You never drive around just for fun."

"If you must know, I have to check something."

"About a patient."

Martin hesitated for a second. "In a way, yes, in a way it's for a patient."

Louisa looked at him quizzically. Then something dawned on her. "The patient, isn't by any chance yourself?"

"What?" Martin sounded alarmed, which encouraged Louisa to believe that she had come to the right conclusion.

"Why, Martin? What do you want to do?"

"I told you, I have to check something."

"About your memory, is that it?"

She could see his anger rise. In an agitated voice he replied. "Of course about my memory! What do you think? It's all about that, isn't it? This whole village treats me…me…suspiciously. I simply have to find out something about me or I'll go mad?" His voice cracked. "It's so…unnerving, to sit in there, letting complete strangers parade in front of you, functioning without knowing why you are able to in the first place. I always surprise myself when the locum actually confirms that I _do_ know what I'm doing, but I don't know _why_ I can do it. My body is functioning, and I stand by and watch myself doing it, thinking '_How on earth does he do it?_'"

"Martin, I'm so sorry. I really thought it would help if you could work again. As you said, all your patients and the locum are full of praise, emphasising that they wouldn't notice your _handicap_ if they didn't know. I thought, it was going just fine."

"_Just fine._" Martin repeated sarcastically. Louisa decided to ignore that. It was really a difficult time for Martin and he probably couldn't be blamed for feeling a bit irritated.

"So what are you going to do? Where are you going?"

"Well, I have to find ways to trigger my memory. There _must_ be a chance!"

"But how, Martin? How can you do it?"

Martin was in clear doctor-mode now. "In persistent retrograde amnesia it might help to visit locations connected with the memory loss, re-live situations that led to the refusal of the brain to remember in the first place. Best chances are if the patient can create the same circumstances or the same emotional stress again, as the brain often stops the resistance against remembering then."

"You have to know what happened first to do it, don't you?"

"For optimal results, yes, but in cases where full information is lacking you have to try with the last established facts. Maybe that will lead to some conclusions, maybe it can trigger little flashbacks. It's not the optimum, but it has to do."

Louisa thought about it for a moment, suddenly it hit her. "You're driving down to Lundy Bay!" She exclaimed, and she couldn't disguise the fear in her voice.

"It's a start. At least it's the last established fact I have before turning up in Plymouth." Martin tried hard to appear matter-of-fact, but his eyes were a bit unsteady and Louisa could have sworn that there was just a hint of his voice shaking.

"I'm coming with you." Louisa declared.

"No! No, Louisa. Don't. Please don't!" Martin protested vigorously.

Louisa closed the gap between them, and took his lapels into her hand, looking at him sternly. "You don't think I'd let you go there alone? Martin, you can't do that! If you were a patient of yours, would you advise him to go there without company, completely on his own?"

Martin cleared his throat nervously, looking around, avoiding her eyes.

"Martin, I won't leave you alone with this. You have to take me with you."

Martin looked down at her, and his face showed the softness he only showed for her.

"Louisa, look, it's far too dangerous. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I can handle this. Honestly I can."

"Martin Ellingham!" She scolded the accomplished doctor in the same way she told a naughty school boy off. "You don't want to tell me seriously that you want to go down to Lundy Bay in an attempt to trigger unpleasant memories all on your own! You must be out of your mind! I'm coming with you and that's the end of the discussion.' Louisa stated clearly.

"Louisa. I can't allow that. I don't want to put you into danger. I have accepted enough help from you, but this is clearly far too dangerous." Martin talked at her urgently.

"Lundy Bay itself is not really dangerous. I've been there myself a couple of times. Lovely cliff path. And legions of tourists trample along there every year, and nothing has ever happened. Martin, whatever the problem had been with you, Lundy Bay hasn't been the danger, but the one luring you down there."

"Then it's perfectly alright that I go down there alone. Then I can't understand why you insist on accompanying me."

"I'm not concerned that there is any external danger to you. I'm concerned about you. _If_ you are right and that place will trigger memories, then you will be quite shattered. I can't imagine it otherwise. In that case, I want to be there for you. I will not leave you alone with this. No way."

"And if I tell you that I would very much prefer that? That I don't want you to go down there with me?" Martin didn't want to have Louisa around for exactly the same reasons why Louisa was so eager to go with him. He also knew that he would probably be a wreck if he did really remember, and he really would prefer it that Louisa wouldn't see him like that.

"If you refuse to take me with you, then I suppose I will spend my free afternoon at the beach. I know a bay not far from here which is quite nice. Face it, Martin. Lundy Bay is a public place and I have as much right to go there whenever it pleases me as anyone else has."

"Right. I see."

Martin thought about the options he had. Thinking about the measures he could take to enhance his memory, the encounter with the traumatic experience, as far as he could know about that, was the best bet.

Louisa and Joan kept assuring him that it wouldn't be a problem if he didn't regain his memory. That they could start anew. What did they know? He couldn't bear to have decades of his life lying in the dark. He had to do something, at least try.

He also had to admit that, in a way, Louisa was right. If he was his patient, he would strongly object to him going down there on his own, he would also call the patient irresponsibly stupid. However, he felt uncomfortable about dragging Louisa into this.

Logically speaking, he also knew that Lundy Bay was most probably not the most dangerous place in the world. The criminal record in almost any other place of the world was most probably dramatically higher than down there, except maybe for the South Pole. Nevertheless, he felt uncomfortable taking her down there, as for him this place was connected with danger. Looking at Louisa he realised she was hell bound. It would be easier to take her than to have her follow him in her own car. Pure waste of petrol otherwise.

Martin unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Louisa. "Get in, if you insist. "

"Thanks for the kind invitation." Louisa teased him.

They drove down to Lundy Bay quietly. Both were concerned about what this lovely stretch of beach had in store for them. Louisa just hoped that she could cope with whatever they were facing, no matter how it would turn out to be.

Martin parked at almost exactly the same spot as his car had been found months ago. Then they got out. Martin stopped for a moment, looking around. If he had been called out for an emergency at the cliff path, the safest bet was that he had headed towards the bay. Otherwise he would have been rightfully suspicious and nothing would have happened. He turned towards Louisa.

"Maybe you better wait in the car."

"No, Martin, I'm coming with you."

Martin had realised by now that there was no use in arguing. "If you must."

Then he strode along towards the bay. Louisa just followed him, sensing his concentration. He gave the same impression as he always did with difficult medical procedures. He was completely focused and she supposed distracting him by touching him or talking to him would just lower the possibility of success. So she walked behind him, watching him intently to notice the first signs for her to intervene, if the emotional stress became too much for him.

Martin walked along the path, monitoring his emotional state carefully. Until now, the whole place was a blank canvas to him. He couldn't remember that he had ever been here, no flashes of memory at all, also no sign of any emotional stress.

He came to the point where the path split up, one way leading onto the cliffs, the other one down towards the bay. He had to decide. He couldn't remember which path he had taken at the beginning of the year, and maybe he was on the wrong way already. Anyway, he had to decide where to go. Without knowing why, he chose the way down to the bay. After a few moments the path took a turn and the view to the way before them was blocked by some bushes. Martin turned around the corner, with Louisa following close behind.

Louisa almost ran into Martin, as he suddenly stood nailed to the spot. He was staring in front of him, gasping "Jonathan?". When Louisa came in front of Martin she could see his eyes widened with horror. He stared into thin air, slightly trembling.

_To be continued…_


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Louisa decided she'd better say something. "Martin, what did you say?"

Louisa wasn't sure if she had understood correctly.

"What? Nothing. I don't know."

"Can you remember anything?"

"Not really. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"Nothing, probably." Martin gulped, still shaky.

"No, there _is_ clearly something. What is it?"

"I honestly don't know. It's just a feeling." _Feeling_ was good, really good, given the panic he felt inside. With Louisa around he had to pull himself together, though.

"What was that you said?" Louisa inquired further. Martin turned towards her.

"Do I know a Jonathan?"

"WHAT?"

"No, of course not. It's just that the name is suddenly in my head and I never thought about a Jonathan before."

"If _he _is behind all this, I'll kill him! I swear to you, I'll kill him! Can't he leave me alone for good? I thought I made it clear that I don't want to have anything to do with him when I threw him out! Oh no! But Dad never listens to anyone, does he? Always lingering around at the wrong time. Stealing is one thing, but if he is behind all this – I'll kill him!" Louisa was really furious now. Martin looked in puzzlement towards her.

"So your father is Jonathan?"

"No, my Dad's name is Terry."

Now Martin looked confused. He didn't understand a word anymore. Because he had said _Jonathan_ Louisa was suddenly suspecting a _Terry_. There was obviously something he was missing.

Louisa noticed Martin's confusion. She took him by the arm. "First let's get away from here. I noticed a bench a couple of minutes ago. Let's go there and talk quietly."

Sitting on the bench next to Martin, Louisa took a deep breath and took Martin's hands into hers.

"I am very sorry, Martin, but if my suspicion is correct, then your condition is my fault. Well, at least up to a degree."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not easy to explain. At least for me it's not easy. In a way I was glad that you couldn't remember your encounter with my father. He is certainly no one to be particularly proud of."

"But if he is called _Terry_, why do you suspect him?"

"Let's start with my father. The rest will become clear later." Louisa sighed. "_My father_" she started, stopping shortly for another deep breath "he is a gambler, a thief and a crook."

Martin stared at her. He couldn't even say that he was particularly shocked, he just felt so incredibly sorry for Louisa.

"He had to leave Portwenn when he stole donations for the lifeboat. Really! How low can you get! As many people depend on the sea here, it is vital to have rescue at hand. So it didn't go down quite well with the villagers."

"He left and I didn't hear from him for a couple of years. _Quite_ a couple of years. I can't say that I missed him, really. Suddenly, out of the blue, he turned up for my birthday. You were just suggesting doing something together. I guess you meant it as a birthday treat, now that I think of it. That was very nice of you." Louisa smiled at him.

"Well, where was I? So Terry Glasson turned up in Portwenn. I can't say that it was a particularly happy day. First I was stupid enough to be glad that he remembered my birthday. Not that he had done so often. I should have been warned by that. In fact, he didn't come for my birthday at all, I was just providing cheap accommodation. The true reason why he turned up was that he had a meeting on a boat to buy some explosives to rob a bank."

"Louisa! How terrible for you."

"That wasn't all. He had turned up with an accomplice of his."

"Let me guess – he was called Jonathan?"

"Yes, Martin. My father turned up in the company of this Jonathan. He was quite…weird. At some point he firmly believed my father would cheat on him. I guess he had some sort of persecution complex, as he even felt watched by the parrot in the pub. As I said – weird."

"To put the pressure on my father, he came after me and found me in your surgery. So he tied both of us up and gagged us."

"I see. So the idea is not really new?"

"I'm afraid not. It is a long story, but to make it short, in the end you solved the situation, but in the turmoil when the explosives went off, Jonathan and my father made their exit."

"So he might have a reason for revenge?"

"I doubt that you can judge Jonathan's behaviour in categories like reason. He seemed to be really one sandwich short of a picnic."

Martin sat there for a while, dumbstruck, trying to fit in the new information. It made sense in a way. It must have been someone who knew him, otherwise no call, and had enough criminal energy. Even the business with the boat rang true. It would explain how he came from Lundy Bay to Plymouth, and why he had spent much of the time in the open, as his profound sunburn at that time indicated, with no one seeing him.

The way it looked now, Jonathan had called him to lure him down, somehow made him go on a boat, tied him up on board and let him roast in the sun, until he finally threw him overboard near Plymouth. But why? Why did he have to go on board, and why was he thrown overboard?

He still couldn't remember anything, but at least this hypothesis was congruent with the facts he knew.

Louisa watched Martin in concern. He was sitting there, staring into thin air, brows wrinkled and absentmindedly biting his lip. She didn't want to rush him, but after several minutes she quietly asked.

"Can you remember anything now?"

He quietly shook his head. "No. Not a thing. It was just this name that came into my head. Nothing more." Nothing more but the panic he must have felt all these months ago. He didn't want to elaborate on that, though.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Fine. I'm fine." The answer came a bit too quick and determined to be true.

"No, Martin. I want to know how you _really_ feel."

"I told you. Fine." Martin answered annoyed.

"Great. Good. Nothing to worry about then." Louisa was a bit fed up, too.

"No. I told you. I didn't ask you to come, but you were determined. Sorry to disappoint you. Nothing much is happening after all."

Louisa started to stroke his sleeve and sighed. "Oh Martin. When will you ever learn that it is alright to be scared, alright to accept help, alright to be comforted? I'm here, willing to give you that."

_To be continued…._


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

He saw it clearly. It was blinking in the sun. Something metallic. It slowly approached. Something was screeching, a seagull, probably. There was also something else. He couldn't quite make out what.

Now the angle of this shining object changed, and he could catch a glimpse of his reflection. At least something told him it was him, although he didn't quite recognise himself. Something was off. Besides, there was little to be seen except two blue eyes widened in terror, staring back at him.

He felt the urge to scream, but somehow, his throat tightened. Suddenly it felt completely dry and tight. If felt as if the air had to squeeze through tiny tubes, not getting enough pressure even to utter a word. He noticed a dry cough which he filed away as his.

The metallic thing came nearer, and it seemed sharp and menacing. Blue sky reflected in it, and something else, which made the lines blur.

Just as the object was about to touch his arm, it suddenly changed. He blinked wildly, trying to understand. To understand how this shiny, solid object could suddenly be dark and flexible. It was swinging over his head, and he could hear it whir in the air. He tried to duck, to cover himself, but he was tied down, fixed. Then this brown object was scourging down at him. He ducked, and it worked, and he could hear a snake-like hiss near his ear.

All of a sudden, it was dark. Pitch dark. Everything was quiet. It scared him. He listened attentively. He didn't know what he was listening to. He looked up and above him were stars. Thousand of them. Little tiny dots twinkling in a sea of darkness. He blinked, and there were no stars anymore. No. Out of the darkness, pairs of eyes were staring down at him. Eyes with a sneering look. A whole sky of eyes.

Then the sky changed. Not that he could tell why, but he just knew that the sky was folded, somehow. He knew that it didn't make any sense, but the darkness was divided into little squares.

He knew, if he could hear something from these squares, he had to watch out. He just didn't know what for.

Anxiously he listened at every sound, while those vile eyes were mocking him. Before he could even hear anything, he could see those eyes smirk.

And there it was. He shivered. He felt cold as if his bones had turned to ice.

Heavy footsteps were approaching down the sky. He turned his head away, trying to cover himself, trying to hide.

But he could not hide. Not here. He was fixed. Suddenly he was staring up to a blazing sun. Not a cloud in the translucent, blue sky. The ground was shaking. He had a funny feeling in his stomach and he felt light-headed. Something had made him nauseous, but he couldn't say what.

While flinching away from the burning sun, he noticed someone standing above him, towering over him, arms akimbo. He looked down at him triumphantly and then opened his mouth to laugh. But the laugh that escaped him was not the one of a grown man, but sounded like the sniggering of at least a dozen boys.

The laughter grew and grew, ringing in his ears, haunting him. He tried to cover his ears with his hands, but his hands were tied at his back, and the man with the laughter of a bunch of boys was still towering above him.

But he had to cover his ears. He would go insane listening to the roaring laughter. He had to get away.

Then he felt something at his ears. Someone tore at them. Someone had grabbed him by the right ear and was dragging him over the floor. He tried to stumble after this person, and suddenly he could move again. He tried to keep up, knowing that the pain only grew worse if he didn't.

It was dark again all around him, and it smelled stuffy. He heard himself pleading that he would never do it again.

He didn't knew what. He must have done something, but by the life of it, he couldn't remember what.

Then he felt something wet. He felt guilty. He wasn't allowed to be wet. It was bad. Bad boy. But the wetness expanded, and suddenly there was water all around him. He tried to get his head above the water but didn't dare to. He knew he couldn't allow himself to be seen above sea level. The sea was his safety.

The water got into his mouth, but he wasn't allowed to get up. Not yet. Not if nothing was to happen to you. Outside the water, it was dangerous. The water was in his nose and in his mouth, and he knew that there was nothing but water. There was no sky, no air. Only water.

But the water tasted odd. Too much sodium. Something else tasted odd. He tried to swim, but only his legs obeyed, and he was tumbling through the water like a lopsided seahorse.

The pressure in his throat grew worse. He had to get the water out of his throat, or it would burst like a pipe.

He spluttered. He coughed. Swimming as fast as he could, hoping to escape.

He was completely wet. Soaked. His pyjamas clinging to his body, when he woke up by his own screaming. He looked around, and quickly switched on the light. He looked intently at his bedside table. The clear lines and solid nature was comforting. His breathing started to come more regularly when he discovered, that the bedside table, as well as the rest of the room, did not change.

Nor did he change position. He ran his hands over his body, evaluating if he had any wounds. No. He seemed to be fine. He checked his pulse. Elevated, but that was to be expected.

Martin went downstairs. He switched on every light on his way down. The darkness suffocated him. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of his steps on the stairs. Strangely enough, this sound made him feel uneasy.

He reached the downstairs and felt the irrepressible urge to check the room under the stairs.

The loo, what else. He didn't know what he had expected.

He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. There was no way that he could go back to sleep. The pictures had been unsettling, and much clearer than they had ever been.

He went back upstairs, his head still spinning. He held his head under the cold water. Maybe that could cool his thoughts.

He went to the bedroom window and stared out of it. It was still dark. In the harbour, some fishermen were busy with their morning catch.

After quite some time, other lights appeared in the windows of the village, one after the other. A faint light at the horizon indicated the end of the night.

_To be continued…_


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Shortly before Christmas Louisa came to Martin's surgery just before closing time. Graham-Simmons had already gone home for his holidays, leaving the surgery to Martin alone.

"Hello, Louisa. Wanting to see the Doc?" Pauline asked when she entered.

"Just thought I could wait for him to finish, maybe. Has he many appointments left for today?"

"As you see…" Pauline nodded to the people waiting "…just two more to go. Shall I tell him you're here?"

"No hurry, really. I'll just wait." Louisa sat down on one of the chairs. Having learned over the years that Portwenn might be the only waiting room without magazines within the whole UK, she got her novel out of her handbag and started to read. Moments later the door to the consulting room opened.

"…and remember to wear proper footwear when going out in icy weather." Martin gave advice to a limping customer, which he shepherded out of the room.

"NEXT PATIENT!" His eyes wandered through the waiting area. "Louisa?"

"Hello Martin." Louisa met his eyes and answered softly. She was always flattered at how his face and voice softened the moment he spotted her.

"Do you have any complaints? Do you want to come through?"

"No, thanks Martin. I just wanted to talk and thought maybe I could wait until you have finished your consultations."

"Right." He fingered awkwardly at his suit coat and held the eye contact while getting the next set of patient notes and turned towards the consulting room again.

Twenty minutes later Martin escorted the last patient out of the waiting area. The woman was strongly protesting. "…but with all the Season preparations I can't possibly stay in bed."

"Much better to run around and take good care to sneeze at the great unwashed and make sure they spend weeks in bed, too."

"But the children will be terribly disappointed. And just right now I can't take any time off from work as business is buzzing before Christmas."

"Oh, drop dead." Martin shot after her when she shuffled out of the surgery, sniffing.

Towards Pauline he asked: "No more patients for today?"

"No, Doc, you have all the evening to yourself." She gave him a cheeky smile and eyed Louisa up. "I'll leave you to it."

Martin gave her a look that could kill and had straightened up even more than normal, but before he could explode, Louisa took his arm and directed him gently towards the consulting room. "Can I have a word?"

They went into the consulting room and Martin gestured towards the chair.

"Louisa?"

"Actually, Martin, I was wondering what you are doing on New Years Eve?"

"Nothing in particular. Why?"

"Well, I thought if you have nothing better to do, we could see the old year out together."

"You're having a …party?"

"Not really. I thought just the two of us would be nice. I could cook us something. A nice bottle of champagne."

"I don't drink."

"Yes, but I do. And champagne only comes in bottles."

"I see."

"Don't worry, I don't plan to empty it during the evening."

"Certainly."

"However. From my balcony we would have a wonderful view over the harbour, with the fireworks and all."

"The fireworks are at midnight, right?"

"Yes, Martin, to see the old year out and greet the New Year. Wouldn't make much sense otherwise."

Martin cleared his throat. "Usually I'm in bed at 10:30 latest."

"Can't you make an exception on this special day?"

"What's special about it`?"

"Oh Martin, just the start of a new year."

"But there is no reason why the new year should be any different to the old one."

"I certainly hope it will be. With us spending the evening together, can't that make it special to you?"

Martin gulped. "It could."

"It would really mean so much to me." She bent over and, after hesitating for a moment, she put her hand onto his. "It's just that there were times that I thought I would never see a new year with you being around. I want to celebrate that you are actually here to start a new year with me."

He stared at her. He was touched that it meant so much to her to have him around. Imagine celebrating his company!

Louisa looked at him staring at her, smiling to herself about the effect she had on him. After some minutes Louisa decided she should break the silence.

"So, Martin, do you want to come?"

"Eeehm…I'd like that…I mean…I'd like to." He blushed.

"So it's settled. I'll have dinner ready for 6 pm, so that we don't violate you carbohydrate curfew. Then we can see how the evening develops."

"Right." He stood up abruptly. As Louisa was still sitting in the chair, he looked down. "Anything else?"

"No, Martin. Nothing else."

_To be continued…_


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Louisa was in her kitchen, preparing their meal. She was humming to the radio. Earlier that year, she had promised him that she wouldn't try to get intimate again for the rest of the year unless he regained his memory or he would tell her he wanted to. Her promise would end in a couple of hours and she was determined to make a new attempt at the soonest possible moment.

She had laid out a dress that should encourage him nicely. She'd just had a shower and had some clean sheets on the bed. Just in case she was successful, she had also bought a second tooth brush. She didn't want to risk things going wrong.

Martin was looking forward to being with Louisa, but was also quite nervous. As much as he liked being alone with Louisa, it was also always a huge challenge. Louisa had dropped more than one not too subtle hint over the last months that she wouldn't mind deepening their relations. As appealing as this prospect was, he didn't feel up to it right now. True, love was all about trust, but even trust had its limits. He didn't feel comfortable exposing himself too much, making himself too vulnerable, as long as he still didn't know completely who he was.

He had managed to organise his life after the amnesia and the village, under the strict guidance of Louisa, had been a great help. He knew for certain that he would never have made it without the help of Louisa and Joan. He was grateful and in Louisa's case even more than that. From the first moment she had slung her arms around him in hospital, he was deeply drawn towards her. It was just so unnerving that, in a way, she knew more about him than he did himself.

He had taken a shower, shaved and had put on a new suit. Now he was standing in front of the mirror, meticulously brushing away any dust from his clothing. He bore his teeth to check if his dental hygiene had been complete. Reasonably content with the result – at least it was the best that he could do – he put his coat on and strode down the hill towards Louisa. When he passed the harbour he could hear drunken noises out of the pub. Disgusting. He went up the hill and the group of giggling teenagers came towards him, passing two bottles of sparkling among them. He stopped and grunted: "Some of you are not even sixteen! Poisoning your body with alcohol in the developing years has a very unfavourable effect!"

"Not drinking any alcohol doesn't seem to help the development either." One of the girls counterattacked. "Just think what you did when you were our age!" The whole group started to laugh. Martin felt his throat tighten. If he only knew what he had been like as a teenager, then he might feel different about the evening ahead. He still stared at the disappearing group when he reached White Rose cottage.

He raised his hand to knock, when his hand was touched and a well familiar flutter in his stomach made it abundantly clear that it was Louisa.

"Louisa?"

"You don't have to knock me down to get in here. You're very much welcome." Louisa laughed.

"How did you know?"

"Actually, it would have been difficult not to hear you shout after the girls."

"I see."

"Just let them have some fun."

"I didn't say anything against fun, but why does everybody think you must drink yourself senseless to enjoy yourself. " He grumbled while Louisa pulled him in. "I can enjoy myself very much without any stimulating drugs."

"Can you, Martin?" Louisa asked him doubtfully.

"Of course I do not take any stimulating substances!" He declared rather pompously.

"That was not the part I doubted."

Martin didn't know quite what to say and cleared his throat nervously. Now that his anger was subsiding slowly, he couldn't help noticing that Louisa looked absolutely stunning. He would have a hard time to survive this evening. How could she expect that he could enjoy himself, then?

"Louisa, you look…."

"Yes, Martin?" Her wonderful eyes glowed at him. He felt a hot flush shivering over his body. His throat was strangely dry.

"Thank you for your invitation." He croaked. He had difficulties to control his voice.

"Martin, what's wrong? Do you have a cold?"

"No. I'm fine. Good."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

Actually he would have preferred a cold shower, but for the time being, a glass of water must do.

She brought him his water and then they sat down to eat. Louisa kept on chatting and laughing. Martin mainly gawped at her. She was so incredibly beautiful. It was beyond him why she had insisted that they would see the old year out together, alone, but was so grateful for it. It didn't really matter what she was talking about, as long as he could hear her voice and especially her lovely laughter.

Normally he was taken aback by the unnerving habit of people smiling and laughing all the time, especially as he had the feeling that they expected him to be the same. With Louisa it was different. She seemed to smile and laugh naturally. It was strangely heart-warming.

Louisa noticed him staring at her, even more than usual. "Martin, is anything the matter?"

"Eeehm…No. I'm fine."

"Do I get on your nerves with all my talk?"

"Nooo! No, not at all."

"It's just that you haven't uttered a word."

"I don't…really talk."

Louisa laughed. Martin looked puzzled. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, not at all, Martin. It's just that I have heard the exact same words from you in the exact same intonation before."

Martin looked down at the table with a painful expression. He swallowed, but then said: "I'm sorry, but how was I supposed to know that?"

She realised that her rather innocent remark had hurt him as he was reminded of his disability. She reached over, but he withdrew his hand. "Martin, it doesn't matter. You probably wouldn't remember anyhow, as you were rather drunk at that time."

"I did drink?" Martin asked alarmed and looked disgusted. As his caution was hampered, she managed to get hold of his hand and squeezed it.

"Don't you worry. Normally you didn't. It was my fault. I wanted to make you drunk because I hoped it would loosen your inhibitions and you did it for me. I haven't seen you drinking any other time. Besides, you have the unnerving habit of conking out at a certain alcohol level."

"I see. It has an appalling effect on the liver and the central nervous system."

"Yes, so you told me before I poured the wine down your throat."

"Right." Louisa could see that Martin was withdrawing into his shell. As they had finished their meal, she got up to put her plate in the sink. Then she went over to Martin. Standing behind him she gently stroked his shoulder. He squirmed a bit in his seat.

"Relax, Martin." Bringing her mouth closer to his ear she said lowly: "I'm sorry, that wasn't very thoughtful of me. It's just that I do remember, and I remember that evening fondly and I wanted to share it with you. Could you accept me as being your memory? Just until it's fully recovered?" He turned away slightly, as he could feel a suspicious stinging in his eyes.

"I've been thinking about it. Maybe you want it too badly. Maybe you're just putting too much pressure on yourself. Maybe if you relax and try not to pay too much attention, maybe you would remember more easily."

He shook his head vigorously now. She tried to steady him in squeezing his shoulders. When he had calmed down a bit, she rested her chin on his shoulder and embraced him from behind.

"Or maybe…Could you accept it and we can start from scratch? A man and a woman on a new earth in a new year – at the beginning of time?"

He turned his head towards her. "Louisa, I _need_ to know. Can't you understand that?!" His voice was shaky.

"Sure, Martin, I understand." She started to stroke his hair. "But you can't ruin yourself in moping over it. Besides, as far as I've gathered, you hadn't had too many pleasant memories to start with. Maybe you're lucky that you don't remember everything. Sometimes I thought you were more easy-going in some situations after your accident, maybe because you couldn't remember any bad experiences."

He turned towards her and met her eye-to-eye. "You think I had a miserable life?"

"Pretty much so, and it kept you from making it better. You carried a huge burden. Maybe, just maybe, this amnesia can be a blessing in disguise. Please let's try to start anew. Let us gather more pleasant memories together. Ones we can share."

Just when she felt she'd started to pierce through his thick barrier, a knock on the door distracted them.

_To be continued…_


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65

"I thought you hadn't invited anyone else?" Martin asked alarmed and freed himself from Louisa's grip.

"No, I didn't." Louisa answered while she went towards the door with a sigh. Some workmates, already a bit tipsy, had passed by and saw a light in Louisa's window.

"Thought you'd like to join us. We're heading for the pub. Shall be a jolly lot there. Actually, you can hear the laughter even here!"

"Sorry, can't do. I have a guest."

"Ooooh, you're having a party! And we're not invited? Shall we be offended?" Towards the other colleagues she shouted. "Hey, we're at the right place! Louisa is throwing a party!"

Shrieks and approving shouts from a whole group made Martin cringe. That was not his idea of fun. Thankfully, Louisa thought exactly the same and for once, she found the strength to actually say _no_ in no uncertain terms.

"Oooooh no. You head along to the pub. I have no alcohol here to speak of. You wouldn't like that."

"We can fetch some and we'll be right back."

"Sorry, won't do. It's a very private party."

Another teacher, even more tipsy than the one who had spoken before, giggled: "And I just think I know the guest list." She yelled inside the cottage: "Happy New Year to you, too, Doc!"

Louisa realised she had to put an end to it quickly, or Martin would be really grumpy for the rest of the evening.

"That's enough. You head along. See you the day after tomorrow. And Happy New Year to all of you." She determinedly closed the door.

By now, Martin had composed himself and Louisa realised, that she wouldn't get anywhere right now. Besides, it was still the old year and she was bound to her promise.

She stayed on safer ground for the next couple of hours, especially talking about work, both particularly complained about some stupid regulations which would come into force with the beginning of the year. Bloody EU had to interfere with everything.

Time passed by and at quarter to midnight, Louisa filled one champagne flute with champagne, the other one with plain tap water. Martin refused even sparkling mineral water as it would cause burping.

Martin insisted that Louisa put her coat on before they went onto the balcony to see the fireworks. It was a cold, clear night. From the direction of the pub they could hear a number of voices joining in the countdown. When they finally reached the last second, Louisa pulled Martin down and kissed him gently full on the lips just as the new year was beginning.

"Happy New Year."

"Eeeehm.. yes…Happy New Year to you, too."

"I'm glad the old year is finally over."

"Why's that?"

"It wasn't exactly the best year I've ever had. It brought some pretty heavy grief and some really tough times. I certainly hope the new year will have some better things in store for us."

"Us?"

Louisa realised that she had somewhat given herself away. She tried to change the subject.

"Brrrr.. It's quite cold."

"Let's go in." Martin was about to open the French doors but was stopped by Louisa.

"Please wait just a bit. The fireworks are quite nice." She had hoped that Martin would actually take her in his arms to warm her up, but she should have known better, really.

Louisa enjoyed the bright colours and the colourful explosions were reflected in the relatively calm water. Louisa beamed up at Martin, who didn't seem to be quite in the spirit.

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

"Don't see what the fuss is about. Just different flame colours brought on by different wave lengths of the emitted energy during the combustion. Bloody useless air pollution, too."

Louisa sighed. "But it looks so nice." Martin grunted. "Furthermore, it is supposed to drive away the demons of the old year."

"Rubbish."

"I don't think so. I certainly hope it will do that for us."

"There are no such things as demons."

"Of course not, Martin. The point is that the bad luck should vanish."

"There is no such thing as _bad luck_."

"Oh yes, Martin, there is and we had more than a normal share of it last year. So I hope these fireworks will get rid of them once and for all."

By now the firework started to subside.

"Let's go in, Martin." He was glad to do exactly that. He helped her out of her coat.

"I think I'd better go now. It's past my bedtime."

"Please, Martin. Can't you stay just a bit? I don't want to be alone just yet."

"It's getting late."

"Please?!"

"Right." Martin sat down at the sofa. Louisa sat down next to him.

"It's freezing outside. Just look how cold my hands are." She held her hands in front of him, and almost as in a doctor routine, Martin took them into his. Holding her hands, he realised but too clearly that this was different than during a consultation. It felt different.

"Your blood vessels have contracted due to the cold and left the outer skin with insufficient blood supply. It should solve itself when the blood vessels widen with the increasing temperature."

"Can't you do anything about it?"

"Like what?"

"Rub them, maybe?"

"That would do, if you think it's necessary."

"I do."

He took her cold hands between his large ones and started to rub them gently. Slowly the blood supply increased. Martin wanted to let them go, but Louisa took them and held them firmly.

"Any New Year's pledges?" Louisa asked.

"What? No. Of course not. They are no good anyway."

"I don't know."

"Why? Have you?"

"One or two."

Martin stared at her and thought for a moment.

"But what? You follow a healthy diet, you're by no means…eeehhh…." he gestured along her perfectly shaped body. "…you don't smoke and don't drink to an extent that one has to worry, you get yourself enough exercise. I can't possibly see what you'd want to change?"

Louisa took her hands away and rested one on the top of his thigh. "You left out a very important aspect of life." She started to rub his thigh gently. Martin swallowed hard, propping himself up, trying to push himself up with both hands against the sofa.

"I think I'd better be going." Martin said nervously. "It's quite late and maybe you want to go to bed."

Louisa got up and placed herself on his knees to hinder his stormy exit.

"That's actually not a bad idea, Martin. The best you've had in a long time." Louisa purred, starting to stroke his chest.

"No! Please, Louisa. I think I really should go now."

"Not just yet." She leant forward and kissed him on the lips, slowly and sensually. His breath started to get a bit irregular. When Louisa broke the kiss, Martin was gasping. Breathlessly he uttered, with less conviction now. "That's not a good idea. I should be off, really."

Louisa sat astride him now and pushed him with both hands against his shoulders back to the sofa. "Just relax, Martin." She stroked his hair, starting at his back and slowly going all over the top towards his forehead leaving his hair all dishevelled and his head practically wrapped in her arm. She drew his head closer and kissed him again, this time more passionately.

She took his hand and placed it on her thigh. She could feel him respond to her kiss nicely, burying his other hand in her hair, drawing her close. She shuffled herself even more into his lap, and through his trousers she could feel that he was responding somewhere else, too. His hand was running up and down her thigh. At some point, she had to break away to get some air. He looked at her with lust filled eyes, breathing heavily. She could see sweat all over his face. She started to kiss it away, letting her tongue explore the soft skin of his face. Between her manipulations she whispered "It's terribly hot here, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm really hot…I mean…" He blushed at the double meaning.

"I know exactly what you mean." Louisa stopped kissing his face and started to undo his tie. "Why don't you get a bit more comfortable? It's really too hot for the suit and all that."

She had removed his tie and placed it on a nearby table. Then she started to unbutton his shirt. Martin leant back into the sofa, trying to get a grip on what was going on, watching Louisa who had managed to undo the upper three buttons and started now to run her hands under his shirt, travelling with a firm grip along his shoulders, then back and down his chest. She scratched his chest with her fingernails, and reaching his nipples she started to play with them between her fingertips. Martin _was _really hot now and just watched incredulously her face that showed a bliss he had never seen before. She looked even more beautiful. She was radiant.

Now she pushed his shirt even more open, leaving his chest practically bare and leaned forward to place a trail of kisses on his chest, starting at the bellybutton, travelling over the nipples, which she teased with her tongue. Now her lips travelled upwards, nuzzling at the soft skin of his neck. At some point it had seemed that she lost her balance, and instinctively Martin had steadied her waist with his hands.

Just when she started to let the sleeves of his coat and shirt slip down his arms, while kissing his shoulder gently, a belated rocket brought Martin back to reality.

_To be continued…_


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Startled he realised which way this evening was going and panic took over. He grabbed Louisa's hands, which had succeeded to push his sleeves halfway down, leaving his torso practically naked. He pushed them aside, got hold of his shirt and wrapped it unbuttoned around him to cover himself.

"Martin, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? You're asking what's wrong?!" His voice cracked.

More than just a bit annoyed Louisa answered back. "Yes, Martin. I am asking what's wrong. I can't see anything wrong. Honestly I can't."

"But can't you see where this leads to?!"

"If I'm lucky, straight into the bedroom."

"But Louisa!"

"You wanted to know my plans for the new year, and this is exactly it. To finally bed you."

"But you promised you wouldn't! Not until I regain my memory!"

Louisa shuffled a bit back, but still sitting on his knees. Gently she stroked his hair. "Martin, I just promised that I wouldn't start anything last year unless you regained your memory or you told me that you were ready. That year has passed."

"But just."

"Yes, but it _has_ ended and therewith my promise."

Martin gulped. Guiltily he looked at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"I'm sorry, Louisa, but…" He swallowed hard "…but sleeping with each other is such a huge commitment. It means that you offer yourself to the partner completely. But I'm not complete. What do I have to offer?"

She stroked his shoulders gently. "A lot, actually."

"I don't even know who I am, really. I can't even promise that I have no prior commitments, or that I haven't done anything stupid you might be ashamed of if you found out. I simply can't promise you that, as I don't know."

"Martin, I _know_ you haven't done anything dishonourable, as you are the most decent, honourable and moral person I've ever met. Before _and_ after your amnesia. Nothing has changed."

"Can't you see that I can't just take your word for it? That I have to know myself to feel comfortable with this big step? I would just feel dirty and miserable in the morning if we went ahead now."

"But how long do you want to wait? It's almost a year now. I don't want to sound discouraging, but there is a tiny chance that you will never remember."

"I'm sorry. I've really tried everything."

"I know you have. Martin, when you went missing I realised that my biggest sorrow was that I had nothing worth remembering. We had taken our time to develop our relationship. Sometimes it seemed we wouldn't go anywhere. Then finally it looked as if we were finally going _somewhere_ when I had to face the fact that maybe our time was used up. What really upset me most was that I didn't have your embrace to remember. That I had only always just dreamt how it would be to be loved by you, but actually never had experienced it. I thought I would never know." Tears started to run over Louisa's cheeks. Martin cupped her face and brushed them away with his thumbs.

"I don't want to risk that again. Time is too valuable."

Martin just melted away seeing her sorrow-stricken face, but he simply couldn't do it.  
"I am _so _sorry."

"Don't be. Just go up those bloody stairs with me. Let me wake up tomorrow feeling your lovely skin. It's so wonderful to touch it."

Martin's eyes glistened too. He swallowed. It was so hard to disappoint her, but he felt it wasn't fair.

"Please give me a chance to be _me_ before we do it. It's just that such a huge part of me is somewhere in the dark."

"Martin, please! Let's start from scratch. You're the first man, I'm the first woman, and earth was created just yesterday."

"But we're not in the Garden of Eden, and in the morning we will be expelled from paradise."

"The problem was only the tree of knowledge. Can't you see that _not_ to know can be a blessing?"

"Reality doesn't work that way."

"Honestly, Martin, before you had your accident you were reluctant to commit yourself to me. I don't know as you never told me, but I suppose you had been scarred badly before and because you remembered that, you couldn't bring yourself to trust me enough to actually sleep with me. Now you can't remember all your bad experiences and because of that you can't bring yourself to make love to me. It's ironic, isn't it?" Louisa managed a wry smile.

"I promise you something. _If_ I regain my memory, and _if _you are still interested in me at that time, you can do whatever you want. Even if I might have reservations, I will not stop you. I promise."

Louisa sniffed, Martin caressed her face. "I'm asking you, as I can't assure you, but did I ever break a promise?"

"No, Martin. You haven't. I think you can't. Your sense of duty doesn't let you."

"You see. Whatever you want. I'm all yours then. I just have to know who I am, really."

She slung her arms around him. "You're such a stupid man. Sweet, but stupid."

"Louisa, please let me go now. I really have to."

"Martin, I'm just afraid something may happen to either of us again, or just to think that you will never remember – I can't wait forever."

He gently kissed her forehead. "You won't, trust me."

Actually, he had noticed that during the last weeks he was regularly woken by nightmares, and even though they didn't make much sense yet, it was normally a good sign that the brain was rearranging its memories again. He was pretty confident, well at least he hoped sincerely, that he would remember soon.

Reluctantly Louisa got up, giving Martin the chance to get up himself. Quite embarrassed about it, he made himself decent. When he tried to grab his tie, Louisa snatched it away from him.

"No, Martin. Not this one. I'll keep it as a love token. You get it back when we've finally been together."

"Right, I see."

"I hope I won't have it too long."

"I guess I have to try hard to get it back." Together they had walked over to the door. Martin turned around to face Louise. He sighed.

"Look, Louisa. I'm very sorry. It's not that I didn't like it. Actually, you almost made me forget my reservations. But just going ahead on the spur of the moment simply would do no good."

Louisa laughed shyly, gently cupping his face. "No spur of the moment thing at all. I planned that carefully. That's why I invited you in the first place. Mainly, that is."

"I see." Martin gulped. "Nevertheless, I hope you understand?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Will I see you?"

"Are you going to Joan's tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind if I join you."

"Not at all. She'll like that."

"And you?"

"I'll like that, too."

He hugged her and then went off. Louisa sighed and sat down on the sofa. That blasted rocket! Maybe it wouldn't have been very comfortable on the sofa, but it would have been better than nothing. Better than now. She leaned against the sofa, which was still warm from him. She placed his tie on the back rest and caressed the sofa above it.

"You silly man. Why can't you forget your morals, too? Just for once."

Martin rushed down to the harbour, where everything was quiet now that the pub was closed. Then he stormed up the hill and unlocked the door to his cottage. He went up the stairs and took a shower. A very cold shower. Then, in his sleeping trousers and T-shirt, he sat down in front of his mirror.

"Who are you, Martin Ellingham? Can't you tell me?" He gave himself a scrutinizing look.

"What's wrong with you? You have the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth practically throwing herself into your lap. Why do you run away? Is she right? Have you been so badly scarred that you panic when a woman just touches you?"

"Tell me, who was it? It can't be her. She does everything for you, you fool."

He sighed and went to bed. He embraced his pillow tightly, buried his face into it, imagining it was her neck. If he hadn't been so cowardly, he could have experienced it for real. He sighed and dozed off.

_To be continued…_


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67

It was early April. Martin was with a patient. A nasty skin infection, which was absolutely unnecessary if people simply learned how to wash their hands and keep their hands off some things. His phone rang. Grumpily he answered: "Pauline, I'm with a patient."

"Sorry, Doc, emergency."

"Right. Just a minute." He covered the speaker of the phone. Towards the patient he said: "Just apply the ointment I prescribed three times a day after washing the affected area thoroughly." Then he gestured towards the door.

"Is that he best you can do?"

"Yes."

"Nothing else?"

"Keep your hands off any rubbish you see. Bye."

Still complaining, the patient went out. Martin turned his attention to the phone again.

"OK, Pauline. Put it through."

"Yes…I see…Pulse?...Breathing?...Any obvious injuries?...Where?" He cringed. That wouldn't be a pleasant sight. "OK. I'm down there. Where is it?...Where?!...NOOOOO!"

All colour vanished from Martin's face, his breathing was fast, he slumped back into his chair and stared incredulously at the phone. His hands started to shake. _Pull yourself together. There's someone who needs help. _

_No. I can't. I can't go there._

Martin kept staring at the phone. He breathed in and out. Then he picked up the phone again and dialled a number in Truro. He informed the air rescue service in Truro and gave all the details. Then he placed the phone into the holder and stared in front of him.

Minutes passed by and Pauline wondered what the Doc was doing. She had expected him to storm out of the surgery after receiving the emergency call. However, she hadn't seen a sign of him since the call. He also hadn't called for the next patient.

Ten minutes had passed by now and the door to the consulting room was still shut. People in the waiting room started to whisper and grew impatient. Finally Pauline went to the door and knocked. Since there was no answer, she cautiously opened it. The Doc sat at his desk, staring in front of him, pale and shaking. He didn't move a muscle when she came in.

"Doc?" He didn't react. "Doc!"

"Yes?" He looked puzzled towards her. His voice was slightly shaky.

"Do you want to see the next patient or are you off to the emergency?"

"What? No!"

"No what? No emergency or no next patient?"

"What?"

"Doc, are you alright."

"Yes, fine." He answered abruptly.

"You don't look like it."

"Eeehm…"

"There are just three more patients this morning. Shall I send them home and make new appointments?"

"What? No…eeeh…or maybe?"

"I arrange everything. Don't worry. And I will call off the appointments for the afternoon, too. You don't look too well."

"Maybe. And then you can go home."

Pauline closed the door quietly and looked worried towards the closed door.

"Listen everybody! Unfortunately the Doc can't see any more patients this morning. Please make new appointments."

A couple of minutes later, the waiting room was empty. Pauline went through the afternoon appointments and phoned everyone. Half an hour later, all appointments were re-arranged and the Doc could close the surgery for the rest of the day. Pauline gathered her stuff, swung her colourful handbag over her shoulder, switched the computer off and was about to leave. She looked towards the door. Still no sign or sound from the Doc. She looked at the phone. Should she? But the Doc didn't like it if anyone put his nose into his private affairs. However, he didn't look well at all. Maybe she'd better?

She put her bag back onto the floor and without further ado dialled the number of Portwenn primary.

"Hi Maureen. Can I speak to Louisa, please?...When is the break?...Five minutes…No, I'll call you back. Don't call here, please."

Pauline sat down and stared at the closed door. Should she go in? No. Probably there was only one person who could help now. She looked from the phone to the watch and back. Exactly five minutes later she redialled the number. This time Louisa answered the phone, as Maureen had informed her about the call.

"Pauline? Anything wrong?" Louisa asked concerned.

"Don't know. The Doc is a bit odd, actually."

"What do you mean? Is he ill?"

"Don't know. There was an emergency call, but he didn't rush out. He didn't see any patient afterwards. When I asked about it, he was rather absentminded. He's been alone in his consulting room for almost an hour now."

"That sounds odd. You're right. Was there anything wrong with him before?"

"Until the emergency call he was his usual self. It was just afterwards that he seemed a bit upset."

"I see. I just have one more class right now. I'll see what I can do."

"He said I should go home, but I don't know if I can leave him alone."

"It's OK, there's nothing you can do. I'll come as soon as possible."

Ten minutes later Louisa rushed up the hill. She had found a colleague to take over her English class. She wouldn't be able to concentrate anyhow. The door to the surgery was open, the waiting room was empty. Louisa rushed through to the consulting room. She knocked, but there was no response. She opened the door and saw him sitting there, staring in front of him, as white as a sheet, his hands slightly shaking.

"Martin?" No reaction.

"Martin?! Is anything wrong?"

Slowly Martin realised that someone was talking to him. In a daze, he turned towards the door.

"Louisa? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"Pauline called me. She was worried."

"Can't she mind her own business?"

"I'd say she had every right to be concerned. You look as if you've seen a ghost." Louisa sat on the visitor chair opposite Martin.

"Not a ghost. The past."

"What?!"

"I've seen the past. Suddenly everything was there. I can remember everything, I think. It is as if you are in a dark room and you poke around and then someone switches on the light. And all of a sudden, everything is there. Crystal clear. But you're dazzled and your eyes sting and it's all…a bit overwhelming. " He blinked nervously.

"But that's great!" Louisa jumped up rushed around the desk and hugged him.

"I…I'm not sure." He was still puzzled and looked insecurely towards Louisa.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't understand. Why did you help me the way you did? I did nothing to deserve this."

"Because I love you, you fool!" Louisa exclaimed under tears and kissed him on the cheek, caressing his other one.

"But why? I wasn't really encouraging?"

"You were maddening at times, but I could always see that sweet man under the gruff surface."

"Right?"

"Something's bothering you."

"It's strange. I have two different sets of memories – before the…incident…and after, and I try to blend them, but there are bits and pieces that don't fit. I can't get them together."

"Like what?"

"Mainly the villagers, really. I remember them to be quite annoying and nasty, even a bit hostile. However, when I think of how they supported me after I came back… The same people, but somehow they seemed to be more friendly during the last months."

"Maybe because you were different, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Due to your insecurity because of your memory loss, you weren't acting so superior. You _had_ to trust them to get your job done. They liked that you needed them, so they supported you. They knew you had experienced something horrible, even though no one knew what it was. So they wanted to make things easier for you."

"I see. I just don't know what to make of it."

"Just value how they supported you. They deserve it."

"I'll try."

"Do you also know what happened…I mean…."

"Yes, yes I do." He swallowed hard.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He looked down, staring at his desk.

"Maybe somewhere more comfortable?" Louisa suggested.

"Sorry, I don't feel up to leaving here. I'm quite shaky, to be honest."

"I would never have guessed. Not that you are pale, but your hands are trembling and your voice is breaking. Can I get you something?"

Martin swallowed hard a couple of times. "Water. A glass of water would be nice."

Louisa just turned to the tap in the consulting room and handed him a glass of water. He emptied it in one gulp.

_To be continued…_


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

"Right. That night, I tried to finish early. I was really looking forward dining with you. I had hoped that after the two ruined opportunities it might be third time lucky." He spat out a bitter laugh.

"Then there was this call. An emergency, accident at the cliffs…leg in a peculiar angle, head bleeding. It sounded really horrible and I was sure I had to attend immediately. You don't know how it felt to call off our dinner. I hated to disappoint you." Still standing behind him, she stroked his shoulders.

"You never have to worry about that. I understand. Emergencies are more important than our meals."

"Well, that time it wasn't, in fact. They said that they didn't know exactly where they were. They said they had started their walk at Trebetherick and then one member of the group slipped and fell down a few feet. They would find out more about the exact whereabouts and give me better directions later on."

"I had an idea that it must be southwards and so I got into the car and drove vaguely in that direction. I was already around Trelights when they finally told me that they were at Lundy Bay. I sped up and made my way there as fast as I could. I parked at the National Trust car park, grabbed my bag and went towards the bay."

"I was almost at the cliff's edge, when I saw that there was a boat in the bay. Before I could think about it, Jonathan was suddenly facing me. You know, the nutter that was with your father when he last came down here."

"He held me at gunpoint and forced me down to the bay. It appeared he and a crony had tried to rob a bank. Of course they buggered it up, took the employees as hostages and armed forces surrounded the bank. I don't know how, but somehow they made it out of there, but during the escape, Jonathan's mate was shot in the leg. They made it to their boat and sailed away."

"On the trip cruising along the North Cornish coast, Jonathan remembered me and found out my telephone number. He decided to lure me down there. Maybe also a wicked way of taking revenge. I don't know."

"I had to get aboard. He had his gun at my head the whole time that I was operating on his stupid friend to remove the bullet from his thigh. After I'd fixed him up and put the plaster on he was relatively stable. Jonathan locked me in the cabin. Then they set sail, with me on board. Having seen and smelled all the blood and with the boat rocking, I was really sick. I made a disgusting mess in the cabin. I tried to evaluate my chances, but I couldn't see what I could do."

"The next morning the door was unlocked and at gunpoint I was led to my patient, to see if he was doing alright. The same routine repeated itself for four days."

"Then after the second gangster had made a reasonable recovery and was getting stronger. They decided that they didn't need me anymore." Martin gulped, wringing his sweaty hands. Louisa tried to steady his trembling hands, but he withdrew them.

"I…I wasn't led back to the cabin. They didn't think so much courtesy was necessary anymore. They took some rope and tied me to the railing on board. My arms straight down behind my back. Those sailor's knots are impossible to undo. For more than four weeks I sat there. My legs were numb by now. They just gave me some water here and then, just enough to keep me alive. But being exposed to the sun all the time, getting hardly any food and not enough water I started to have problems pretty soon."

"Not only was I was aching all over, but I started to have hallucinations. I felt really miserable."

"After they gave me another sip of water, I had a lucid moment and realised that I had to try something or I wouldn't survive. I pulled at my bonds. I had almost managed to free one of my hands. Maybe my wrist had become smaller over the weeks due to dehydration. Anyway, one hand was almost slipping out of the knot when Jonathan noticed. I was pulling my arm with maximal strength when Jonathan threw himself against my shoulder I could feel it snap. I cried out loud and then I must have passed out. Must have been the mix of pain and exhaustion."

"When I came to my senses I could hear them arguing. They were panicking because they thought they had killed me. I realised that this was maybe my only chance, so I tried not to move."

"I could hear them discussing my fate. It didn't sound very promising. Finally they decided that they would throw me overboard during the night. I knew I had to try not to move but keep awake. If I would be asleep or unconscious when they would throw me overboard I would have been dead."

"I managed to get through the day. I wasn't sure if I would live to another one." Martin got up and went over to the window. Nervously he fingered at his wrist, still bearing the scars where the rope had cut into his flesh.

Louisa stayed put as she realised he had to finish his story at his own pace, without being interrupted. She could hardly bear what she heard.

"After an endless time, it seemed, I noticed that something was happening. Rustling and bustling. They untied me, but I didn't dare to use that opportunity. I don't think I had the strength to fight both of them. I reckoned I had a bigger chance to reach the shore. They kept close to the shore most of the time. One took my legs, the other one my shoulders. It took all my self-control not to cry out loud. My shoulder did hurt like hell. I'm not sure if I didn't pass out."

"In any case, I can't remember them throwing me overboard. I just remember when I hit the cold water. My muscles cramped and I was worried my heart could refuse to work, but I could make out the shoreline and I forced myself forward. Everything's a bit vague afterwards. They said at the hospital that I had swallowed a lot of saltwater. Obviously I hadn't made it to the shore without problems. Maybe I drifted some of the time. I don't know. At some point I must have hit my head, otherwise I don't know why I was concussed. Maybe a boat or the cliffs. I don't know."

"The first thing I can remember for sure is that I was lying on the shore, eyes shut, aching all over, unspeakably tired. Then some distant voices. A child screaming. Someone said something about an ambulance. I just thought _'Good_' and allowed myself to pass out."

"You know the rest."

A very long silence followed. He kept on staring out of the window, his left hand behind his back. Louisa looked at his back. She wasn't sure if he wanted her there or if she should keep her distance. But the silence endured.

Finally she went over and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She leant against is back.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault."

"In a way it is. If my useless father hadn't dragged Jonathan down here when he visited me, Jonathan wouldn't have known you, and all this wouldn't have happened."

"I might have met him anyhow." Now he loosened her embrace and turned around.

"You know, all that I could think of when I was tied to that bloody railing, as long as I was still capable of thinking, was, that I had never told you how much you mean to me. How much…." His eyes glistened, he gulped, but grew silent.

She looked up to him. "How much what?"

"Eeehm…It's just…."

"Come on, say it. If I learned anything from this awful affair then that time is far too valuable to waste it. Not worth wasting time due to insecurity, false pride, temper or fear. We have to concentrate on what's really important. What's really important to you?"

"You! You are." Martin burst out without thinking. Then he blushed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't…:" She put her finger on his lips.

"Ssshhh Martin. That's fine. So what didn't you tell me? How much…"

Martin felt completely safe in her presence. There was something soothing about her. Her eyes were fixed upon him, but for once he didn't feel that he had to avoid her intense look. He took a deep breath.

"How much I love you. I love you, Louisa. The thought of you gave me the strength to escape the boat. Without you I wouldn't have mastered the time afterwards. I don't know why you did it, but I thank you so very much that you helped me through these hard times."

She wrapped her arms around him once more, this time resting her head against his chest. Clumsily at first he took her into his arms. Then with growing confidence, he tightened the embrace.

"That's nice, Martin. You know, when I…I…thought…you…wouldn't come back again" She sighed "I realised that you had never taken me into your arms and that I had always dreamt about that."

"You did?"

"Yes Martin. I often did dream about us. About us being together."

He softly kissed the top of her head.

"Me too. But I didn't dare to hope…"

She looked up to him. "Martin, we should stop wasting our time. I was devastated when I thought I would never see you again. And to be honest, I regretted deeply that there was not one night that I could remember."

"You mean?"

"Yes, Martin. I was crushed as I had always dreamt about how it would be like to actually be with you. To be loved by you. And then I thought I would never have a chance to find out. And then you were back, but didn't want to take this step because you thought you were a _'black box_' and felt you needed your memory back, first. Now you are here and you have regained your memory. So what about now?"

"You really want to…"

"…to make love to you, yes Martin."

"You're really sure?"

"Oh Martin! I've been sure about this for years!"

"Eeeehm…I see. So shall we meet for dinner tonight and then let's see what happens?" He blushed.

"I have a better idea. I have cancelled my lessons, you have no appointments for the rest of the day, and you look as if you need some comforting. I just know the right treatment there." In his firm embrace she had started to stroke his back, or rather the firm fabric of his suit at his back.

"But it's broad daylight?!"

"Who says one can only make love in the dark?"

He broke away from the embrace and stared at her bewildered. She smiled at him broadly.

"Eeehhm…right….I see." He coughed nervously. He looked down at her. _What are you waiting for, you fool! She's the only good thing in your ghastly life and she wants you._ He tried to summon enough courage to follow her invitation. Why was he so shy about it? Why did it feel so wrong? Then he realised why. He didn't want some loose relationship. If he overcame his natural shyness, then it should be for something definite. He knew now why he couldn't follow her suggestion.

"Louisa, there's one thing I need to know before…uhm…you know."

"No Martin, I don't have any catching diseases, and yes, I'm taking the pill."

"What?"

"I thought these might be your concerns?"

"Right…uhm…no, actually."

"What then?"

He stared at her. His breathing was faster than normal.

His adrenaline level was definitely rising. _Now or never. You're at the cliff's edge and now jump!_

"Marry me!"

"What was that, Martin?" She asked with tears in her eyes.

"Louisa, you're the only reason why I'm still alive. I don't want to be without you ever again. Please marry me."

She clung her arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses. "Of course I will! You stupid, insecure, lovely, shy, brilliant man!"

"You will?" He managed to sigh between her kisses.

"Oh yes, I will. And now there's just one thing we need to do!"

"You mean…?"

"Exactly!"

"Yes, I suppose we should tell Joan right away."

"What?" Louisa let loose and looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?"

"You agreed that there is one thing left to do. I thought you meant…"

"Tomorrow, Martin. Tomorrow is soon enough. Now I have to find out something." She took him by the hand. "Let's go somewhere where it's a bit more comfortable. Actually, I've never been upstairs here. Do you want to show me around?"

Swallowing hard he took her up the stairs.

Later that day, cuddled close to Louisa, he just hoped that he would never forget this wonderful day.

_The end_

…_.or maybe just the beginning_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_I thank all kind readers, especially those who took their time to comment. It was a huge encouragement._

_Again, this story became longer than I anticipated when the Doc Martin fanfics „Martin, pi" by robspace54 and „Heartbeats" by Littleguinea put the little idea about a kidnapped and amnesic DM into my head. I know that I tested everybody's patience (after all, the story started on 14.03.11). The more thankful I am for every reader who stood by me throughout all 68 chapters. _

_My very special thanks goes, as always, to my proof reader, fanficfan71, who still patiently corrects everything I throw at her. All my errors are my own._

_My last but not least thanks goes to Buffalo Pictures for creating such wonderful characters. As always, it had been fun to play with them for some time. I hope, I'll return them to you undamaged._


End file.
